Change of heart
by Lilian
Summary: The Source has always wanted Phoebe to cross over. What if he accomplished it? And during the most pivotal moment in Phoebe's life; the day Cole proposed to her? [PH]
1. The Taking

**Change of Heart**, chapter 1: the Taking  
  
by Lilian.  
  
lilian413@yahoo.com  
  
AN: okay. Got *very* pissed off when I watched 'Black as Cole'. And decided to branch off a moment I thought could be exploited much further. Read and find out what I'm talking about.   
  
A million and one thank U's to Barb, a wonderful friend who gives me the strengh to keep on writing, and gives me feedback when I need it.   
  
I hope you all like this, and please review!.   
  
Warning: completely un-betaed!!.   
  
**********************  
  
  
I never wanted this. I never have, and until I draw my last breath, I never will. Sometimes I think this is just some sort of freaky dream--- one that has taken me four long years to wake up from. Four years... almost half a decade of my life, lost.   
  
Gone.   
  
And I've changed. In more ways than one. I think I'm just a shadow of the woman I was back then. A ghost. A walking shell. Fours years spent in hell will do that to you.   
  
And when I say hell, I mean it literally.   
  
Prue is sleeping beside me now. I named her after the aunt she never met. Maybe some day she will, when she's old enough. But not now. Not when the pain is still too fresh and the wounds are still bleeding... I thank the Powers that she was unharmed during the battle.   
  
My small Prudence--- so young and naive... I don't know how she managed to escape on her birthday, but I thank whoever was watching over her that she did. Even if I missed the first four years of her life. Somehow, she learnt how to shimmer even before she could talk.   
  
She's got her father's intelligence. Which is good, because if she was even *half* the twit I turned out to be, she wouldn't have made it out of there. And my beautiful baby would've been twisted into a monster, and evil would've taken hold on her, and I would've never forgiven myself. I think no one knows about her--- I mean, I'm sure they realized I was pregnant even before *I* did, but they never knew what happened to her.   
  
I think it was the demonic side of her that sensed danger. And even as a toddler, still nursing from my breasts, she escaped the prying eyes of the guards. Not that by the time she was born I had many guards around, but still...  
  
I never knew where she went when she shimmered away. And only today has that information come to me. She went to her father. How she knew, escapes my understanding. But he has told me how one day, this baby popped out of nowhere, and landed on his lap. He never knew why she only calmed down when *he* held her.   
  
Am I confusing you?. I'm sorry. My mind is a wreck these days. I don't think I've done anything but remember. Let me introduce myself:   
  
I, am Phoebe Halliwell. Once upon a time, one of the Charmed Ones. I go by Phax these days. It's easier to kill when you don't have to listen to your own name being called.   
  
Yes. I, Phax, am a loyal servant for the Source. Have been for the past four years, and will continue to do so until I die. But until that day comes, I have pledged my loyalty to him, and a vow is never broken. Not the one *I* took, anyway.   
  
We're blood linked.   
  
The Source was never a demon to be underestimated. I know that now. He threatened to kill my baby, if I ever attempted an escape, and that proved enough chain to keep me where I was. He knows I won't try to escape. And he also knew back then, that it was only a matter of time before he could use my powers for his own good.   
  
He knew he could turn me.   
  
I had taken away one of is most powerful servants, Belthazor. And he was going to make me pay for it. Bigtime.   
  
By turning *me* into his newest assassin.   
  
He christened me with the name Phax as he engraved his mark upon my flesh. I screamed, and trashed, and cried and begged--- it only earned me a sore throat and bleary mascara.   
  
Even as I remember now the events from a distant past, I cringe. I absently trace the inverted triangle marked on my forearm, and scratch it, somehow trying to get rid of it. It's imbedded too deep. And it would do me no good.   
  
It's only the physical manifestation that the Source owns me. Like one owns a toy.   
  
It all started one day, four years ago.   
  
The day Cole proposed to me.   
  
  
**********************************  
  
  
As I drove back to the mansion, my futile efforts to convince Emma of Cole's good intentions still fresh in my mind, I never noticed the strange aura that clung around the house. I swear, to be located on overlapping magical circles, it sure can't protect itself.   
  
I mean demons come and go around the manor as if they owned the place.   
  
Anyway, I opened the door, and threw my keys onto the near table. I didn't notice the silence, nor the darkness in the hall. I called out Cole's name, trying to find him in the apparently deserted house.   
  
An air current brushing against my cheek told me someone had shimmered behind me. For a split second, I thought it could be him... what other demon could shimmer into the house at this time of the night?.   
  
Okay, I suck at rhetorical questions. So sue me.   
  
My assumption was soon proved wrong, as a strong body that was most certainly *not* Cole was pressed against my back, and the athame caressed my neck. I froze, and held my breath in surprise.   
  
Sykes.   
  
Should've known it. Should've reacted sooner.   
  
It would've been great to have an active power back then. Premonitions and levitation did me no good. And I couldn't even throw him over my shoulder... his body was conveniently positioned to resist any of my attempts at kick boxing.   
  
"What do you want?".  
  
My voice trembled slightly, and I knew my bravado had not fooled him.   
  
"The same thing you do. Except I call him Belthazor".   
  
{You will never get him. I swear, I will protect him no matter what. He deserves a chance, damnit!}.   
  
I tried to reach for the potion inside my bag, the power-stripping potion I fixed for Cole way back then... when Prue was still alive, and things were well, and I hadn't been proposed to by the man I love, and I hadn't seen the look of despair in his eyes when I said no...  
  
I realized the bag had fallen from my trembling fingers, and laid between my feet, the potion in open view. It mocked me, with the red liquid inside the bottle swirling with inertia, like diluted blood.   
  
"Except I don't need a potion to vanquish him".   
  
His breath was hot and heavy against my ear, and I shivered in disgust.   
  
"I just need you".   
  
Before I could even call out for help, he had shimmered as out of the manor.   
  
And as I would later learn, out of my life.   
  
  
*****************************  
  
  
We reappeared in the Underworld. I had been here before, and I knew the stench, the dark and the cold... but it was still a shock to my system.   
  
I dropped down to the floor, limp and sapped of any strength. The evil down here was so strong, it drained me of my energy. Last time I had been running high on adrenaline and lust, and I had failed to notice the effects it had on me. But now... it was different.   
  
It probably had a lot to do with the fact the Source himself was standing before me.   
  
I had only seen him once before, through the enchanted lenses. Even then, he had scared the bejeezus out of me. And to see him now, in full physical form, less than a few feet away, was enough to draw all the air out of my lungs.   
  
"A Charmed one. Interesting".   
  
His voice is low and deep, and seems to reverberate through the entire room, echoing through the stone walls. The soft candles laying about are not enough to penetrate the darkness of his robes... and somehow, I know I should feel thankful for that. What lies behind the blackness of his hood is something not meant for the human eye.   
  
Sykes towers over me, the athame still in his hand. He seems as surprised as I am to be here.   
  
"What are you doing? Belthazor is probably looking for her!. I need to go back and kill him!".   
  
It's probably the adrenaline, or whatever substance demons have for a substitute, that's making him speak up. Even *I* know when to shut up.   
  
"You dare question my actions, Sykes?".   
  
Rage flared through his eyes, and he takes a step forward.   
  
"Like hell, I do!. You had no right to shimmer us here!. I was doing just---".   
  
The Source smiles, although how do I know that through the hood covering his features, I'll never know.   
  
"Then your services will no longer be needed".   
  
He waves his hand about, almost as an afterthought, and I can feel the air around me drop ten degrees or so. And then Sykes explodes.   
  
I cover my face with my arm, trying to shield it from the blazing heat coming from the demon torch in front of me--- a few ashes land on the exposed skin of my fingers, and I shriek.   
  
And then we're alone.   
  
And I begin to think that maybe Sykes wasn't such bad company after all.   
  
"Rise, witch".   
  
He addresses me with what could be called smugness. He knows I can't fight him. Not alone. And not here, when my powers are at their lowest. And he knows *I* know, which just bugs the hell out of me.   
  
I struggle to stand up, the shock of the sudden shimmer still running through my system. Only Cole has ever managed to make shimmering a pleasant experience---  
  
Oh my God!!. Cole!. Piper!. Paige!.   
  
"Ahh, yes. You are afraid, are you not?".   
  
My eyes snap up, and I try to glare at him. It doesn't work too well.   
  
I remain silent, knowing the second I speak, he will hear the panic in my voice, and notice the trembling of my words.   
  
"Good".   
  
I stand there, wishing for a miracle to happen--- a miracle I know will *never* happen. There are no miracles in my life.  
  
The Source approaches me, and I fight back the urge to cringe in fear. There's just something about him--- his aura, probably. It reeks of power and evil and knowledge and just--- *power*.   
  
"You are strong, witch. Stronger than I thought. I see why Belthazor took a liking on you".   
  
Something akin to anger bubbles up inside of me, as I realize I'm standing right in front of the man (scratch that, *creature*), who created Belthazor. And I hiss at him, more than speak, through my clenched teeth.   
  
"Don't you dare say his name".   
  
He smiles again, and a red skinned hand reaches out to me through the long sleeves of the robe. He grabs my chin firmly, and forces me to look deep inside the darkness of his hood.   
  
"I dare, witch".  
  
And for a split second, I *see* what's behind the cloak, and I scream.   
  
Because it's Cole's handsome face the one that greets my wide eyes.   
  
  
*************************  
  
  
It only took me a minute or two to stop screaming. And a couple more to stop the twitching of my body. And all along, the deep, vicious laugh of the Source ringed in my ears.   
  
"Amusing. *This* is one of the mighty Charmed ones?. How truly pathetic".  
  
I fight back the bile rising in my throat, and realize he's just playing games with me. As he has done for God knows how many years.   
  
When I can find the courage to look back at him, he's completely morphed into Cole. Cole... with his blue eyes, and strong chin and delicious body... he's gotten it right down to the last detail, including that little scar on the side of his chin.   
  
"No...".   
  
My voice is barely a whisper, but he hears it anyway. I think he might be listening to my thoughts too, for all I know.   
  
"Oh yes. Isn't this what you wanted to see, Phoebe?. Didn't you want to see me?".   
  
His voice, his lovely voice--- the who purrs my name like a caress and whispers sweet nothings to me when we lay awake in my bed after a session of intense love making...   
  
"You're not him".   
  
I try to look confident, try to bluff--- without any energy to even lift myself off the floor, how can I resist the torture?.   
  
"Oh, but I am, darling. I am".   
  
I look to the ground, to the soil... mother Earth, please give me strength. But even the earth is polluted in here. Dark, and stagnant; foul and empty...  
  
"Phoebe".   
  
He whispers my name, and he does it just right. He breathes it out, lets it roll on his tongue, and soothes me with it. And I can't help but be carried away into the fantasy.   
  
"Cole...".   
  
He reaches down to me, and cradles me into his arms. And I sink into them, weak, drained and lost. In his arms I have found peace, calm, serenity---  
  
His lips seek mine, and I let him find me. And I kiss him, with everything I have, because maybe, just maybe, this is the real Cole, and I'm not in Hell, and we're together, and he's here, and everything's allright---  
  
The foul taste of dank putridness invades my mouth, and I gag and spit, and recoil. The Source drops me unceremoniously onto the floor, a smirk of victory gracing his lips. At least he changed back. Maybe now I can get a hold of myself.   
  
"As I said. Truly pathetic".   
  
I keep the tears welling in my eyes inside, and force myself to stand up. I did *not* survive heaven and hell during my three years as a witch to die like a worm, squashed under the Source's shoe. At least, if I go down, I'll go down fighting. His impersonation of Cole has given me back some of my strengh... emotional strength at least.   
  
I still feel as if I'm moving through water, in slow motion. My limbs are heavy and my mouth is dry. It hurts to even think.   
  
"Let me go".   
  
His laughter dies slowly, but the smugness and confidence remains.   
  
"Why should I?".   
  
I try to find an answer, but I can't. There's no logical reason onto why he should let me go... and cold sweat runs down my spine as I realize I might not make it this time.   
  
"I'd rather keep you down here. You're such a lovely creature to look at".   
  
I shiver at the finality in his voice. He knows I'm not going anywhere.   
  
"In fact, I have a proposition for you".   
  
Through the nausea and somewhat of vertigo, I listen to him, barely acknowledging his words.   
  
"You're a powerful witch. Your powers are strong. If I kill you, some other witch will receive them, and I'll just have *another* nuisance to deal with. On the other hand, if you chose voluntarily to join us---".   
  
My dry, harsh cackle seems to surprise him. Now that's different. He doesn't want to kill me. He wants to turn me!!. That's rich.   
  
"You think I would *ever* join you?. Where have you been for the past twenty generations?. The Halliwells do *not* do evil. We fight it. You're evil. I'm not. See?. Do I need to spell it out to you?".   
  
My mind is whirling, and I know I'm not making much sense. I think I'm loosing my grip on reality... I think I'm going crazy. Now where's the cool, level headed Phoebe when I need her?.  
  
"True. But no Halliwell has ever bedded a demon before, either".   
  
I freeze in middle yak. His words cut through my walls, through my defenses, and like lightning, bring them down with one strike.   
  
"You have evil inside you, witch. Whether you wish to accept it or not. Why do you think the Woogie was able to posses you?. Or why did Dantalian's spell work better on you that it did on your sisters?".  
  
Something Prue said comes back in a breath, like something said in a dream.   
  
'they didn't just plant evil inside of me, or us for that matter. there had to be something there for them to turn, to begin with'  
  
Oh my God!.   
  
My mind goes blank, and I stare off into nothingness, things suddenly becoming crystal clear for me. I was attracted to Cole because the evil in me found a soul mate in him. I was attuned to the succubus because I was evil too. I was evil in my past life. What other sign could I possibly need to realize it's true?. I--- everything, everyone--- I was evil. I am evil.   
  
"Now you see the truth, Phoebe?. Just give in. Come to us".   
  
No. No. NO!!!. Cole warned me against the Source's mind games. He explained to me how he slowly ate through his victims confidence, destroying their ego, their reality... twisting everything they ever knew to be the truth.   
  
I am *not* evil. I'm a good person. A good witch. I protect the innocents. I save the world every other day, while trying to keep a normal life on the weekends. I am Good!!.   
  
"No. You'll have to kill me first".   
  
The Source doesn't even blink. It's as if he was expecting me to refuse.   
  
"Good. Resistance. I will enjoy breaking you, my sweet".   
  
I shiver, and not from the cold.   
  
"Then, if you won't do it for yourself, do it for the one you love the most".   
  
I smile sadly.   
  
"My sisters will protect Cole, and Cole will protect them".   
  
And this time, the Source really *grins*. Wickedly. And an icy hand grabs hold of my heart, and squeezes it mercilessly.   
  
"I'm not talking about Belthazor".   
  
Who?. Who could possibly mean to me more than Cole and my sisters?.   
  
"What the hell are you talking about?".   
  
He walks past me, and I feel myself being dragged behind him. Telekinesis. Great. Just great.   
  
But he remains quiet, and keeps on walking. And I think I'll go crazy if he doesn't tell me who it is. Because I can't, for the love of my life, think of anyone else.   
  
"Who is it?".   
  
He ignores me, and we walk (are dragged) through walls and walls, and corridors and hallways, and the air grows suffocating, and the dim candles fail to illuminate the far corners, and shadows dance around, trying to get me, and they brush my calves and I feel their icy grip, and I panic and I trash and I fight--- to no avail.   
  
I spend most of my energy in trying to break free from his mind grasp... I can feel him around me, his mind trendils caressing my body, in ways that disgust me to no end. And I scream, and cry out, and call for help, in a place that has known no mercy for the past millennia and even more millennia to come.   
  
{Cole, help me!}.   
  
"Who IS IT?!!".   
  
I cry out, feeling my energies leaving me, and I'm falling, falling, falling... into the darkness, into nothingness, into the abyss...  
  
my voice barely reaches out, and for a second I think he didn't hear me, and I cry, and sob, and my heart weeps for Cole, for Piper, for Paige---  
  
"your daughter".   
  
His words are the last ones I hear for a very, very long time.   
  
  
  
**************************  
  
  
Tbc.... 


	2. The Turning

** Change of Heart **, chapter 2: the Turning.  
  
by Lilian  
  
lilian413@yahoo.com  
  
AN: Okay, first of all, thank you so much to all the wonderful people who have reviewed this story. And specially Ashley... it was your comments the ones that got me writing chapter 2, and right onto chapter 3!!.   
  
Nothing much happens in here, I know, but I needed to write this. I promise chapter 3 will have more action and story development.   
  
  
  
***************************  
  
  
  
Cole was desperate. He had gone beyond worried, concerned and angry a couple of hours ago, and jumped straight into desperation.   
  
Phoebe was missing.   
  
She had called Piper of her cell phone, by seven o'clock. It was already eleven, and there was still no trace of her. She said she had spoken to Emma, and that it had proven fruitless, and then her tracks disappeared. And he knew witches didn't just vanish from the face of Earth. Especially not Phoebe. And the possible explanations scared the hell out of him.   
  
He had never known such fear. Never. Not even when he was a small half-demon, training in grounds made for creatures far stronger than he was at the time. Not even when he had faced the Source for the first time, a cowering youth, biting the inside if his chin to keep himself from bolting. Not even when Phoebe lay bleeding in the ground, her perfect features marred with pain, when the time loop had grabbed hold of her psyche.   
  
He paced back and forth, fighting the urge to blast something. The demon in him, who had strangely grown attracted to Phoebe as well, demanded he destroy something. To let the anger go, to release the tension--- one good energy ball, and this house would burn to the ground.   
  
He was glad he had remained human for so long. It was only because Belthazor was weakened and tired that had hadn't snapped already.   
  
Piper and Paige were just as lost as he was. They had tried scrying for her several times, to no avail. Phoebe had dropped off the face of Earth. Leo's radar had proven useless too. All he had been able to tell them, was that she was alive.   
  
Barely.   
  
But what scared him the most, was that his connection to her was fading too.   
  
Ever since they had met, they had shared this strange pull between each other. When one called, the other answered. It was probably due to the fact Phoebe was a Seer, and could connect to other minds. She never knew she had the Power, and Cole just hadn't had the time to teach her how to use it. And all demons were a little psychic, just making the connection easier.   
  
But now--- as minutes went by, the pull slowly lessened. It began fading, like snow melts under the first rays of sun. And he was quite sure it wasn't because Phoebe was turning it off... it felt like something was blocking him. As the moon covers the sun during an eclipse, a dark shadow was slowly encircling Phoebe's call, and hiding it from him.   
  
He had tried explaining it to the sisters and Leo, but *he* didn't quite understand it in the first place.   
  
He knew something was wrong.   
  
He knew Phoebe was in deep trouble. And he would go crazy without being able to help her. Emma and her revenge crusade were the least of his problems now.   
  
"Leo, what are we going to do?".   
  
Strange, how the otherwise secure and confident Piper dissolved into a scared young woman whenever her family was threatened.   
  
"I don't know. The Elders don't know what happened to her either".   
  
"Some Watchers they are. They never know anything!".   
  
Paige's rant went unnoticed.   
  
"I'll go and look for her".   
  
Cole's voice was strained and low, but they heard him anyway. And Piper was the first one to try and stop him. The eldest sister had grown onto liking the tormented demon, her caring, embracing nature accepting him before her own heart did.   
  
"You can't!. Maybe this is all a setup, a trap from the Source. He's trying to lure you out!".   
  
"If he has Phoebe, I don't care what happens to me".   
  
And before anyone else could try and convince him otherwise, he shimmered out, and began his own search for the woman he loved...  
  
  
************************  
  
  
  
The Source was a very patient demon. He had lived for thousands of years, and planned to live on for many more. And now he had a chance to fulfill that desire.   
  
He had captured one of the Charmed Ones. At first, he had been thrilled at the idea of torturing her, and making that blasted Belthazor watch... but then, he had thought it better.   
  
He had been killing witches for years to no end, and they just kept coming.   
  
They were like roaches. Kill one, lift your feet, and two more run about.   
  
He had had it.   
  
If killing them mercilessly didn't work, he would try a different approach.   
  
He had seen into this witch's heart, and knew of the doubts in there. Of the darkness she feared would one day consume her. Of the pain for the loss of her sister. Of the emptiness inside of her that Cole had filled.   
  
He also knew of Belthazor's proposal... the stupid hybrid!. He had lost *years* training the damned freak!.   
  
But the marriage proposal had its quirks. When he had proposed to her, he had opened a connection. He had bared his soul to her, asking a question demons were never meant to utter. And the Source had slipped right through, and gained an entrance into the witch's mind. He had more control over Belthazor than the red skinned crossbreed ever knew.   
  
Good.   
  
He knew her secrets, her desires, her needs and her doubts. That's why he had morphed into Belthazor's human form. He knew it was the best way to undermine her confidence. If he really wanted her to work for him, he would have to be cautious and sly, working his way from the inside out, destroying her defenses, one by one.   
  
The power of premonitions she possessed also helped him. Unlike telekinesis or temporal stasis, premonitions were never meant for humans. It was a dangerous power, tiring and weakening, draining the energy of whoever bore it.   
  
Sure, Phoebe Halliwell had been preparing for generations to receive it. Her soul had been crafted, cared for and sandpapered--- *prepared*. But it was never meant for her to control it. Unlike her sisters, who could call them forth at will, premonitions would come to Phoebe only when the Elders saw fit.   
  
And they knew more than one premonition a day would kill her.   
  
But they obviously had never *met* Phoebe Halliwell. What Phoebe Halliwell wanted, Phoebe Halliwell got. And she had gotten the handle on her powers some time last year. Not a very firm hold, I'll give you that, but still, she could sometimes call forth a premonition the Elders did not want to disclose.   
  
And her body was taking the toll much harder than they had expected.   
  
And the little human did not realize it.   
  
She blamed it on too much demon vanquishing, and too much late night exercises. On bad eating habits, and too much studying--- never on the tiring effect premonitions had on her mind.   
  
Skimming through her memories, he absently watched as the deceased sister vocalized the dangers of premonitions:   
  
'Do I have to?. The last time I got all woozy...'  
  
'Okay, you know, you guys take for granted that I'm your innocent yellow pages. This takes work'.  
  
'Do your ears ring when you do that?'  
  
Fools. Of course her ears would be ringing: a Seer lost control of her body as long as the premonition lasted!. Their main arteries contracted, their blood pressure jumped, oxygen stopped reaching the brain... they needed the synapsis to stop, and for brain cells to halt in order to slip the premonition into the mind.   
  
The human body wasn't ready to take that kind of abuse. It's like flicking a switch on and off several times in a row--- the light bulb is bound to get burnt.   
  
Just like Phoebe's brain would some day. Soon.  
  
He had seriously considered brain-washing her, stripping her of her memories, and loosing precious knowledge in the process---  
  
But then, he had felt it.   
  
The small, tiny bundle of energy inside her. The microscopical cluster of meiotic cells, dividing inside her even as he watched. And the power. The power they had, the strength it carried within its chromosomes.   
  
And the idea of a new type of hybrid just made his victory all the sweeter.   
  
The witch was pregnant. With Belthazor's brat.   
  
He had never heard of a witch getting knocked up by a demon before. Their genetic codes didn't match, and a hybrid could never be created. They had tried, oh, had they tried. Kidnapping witches hadn't been easy. That, and the fact they had only come up with things too horrible to release into the mortals' world, had discouraged them from trying. Non-humanoid demons were of little use in this realm... they could not wander around and work properly. It just wasn't worth the effort.   
  
Yet somehow, this witch and Belthazor had accomplished it. Strange. Probably had to do with Beltazhor's human half; his genetic code ought to have so many alterations he was a miracle by himself. Or a mistake, depending how you looked at it. And the Charmed Ones, specially this one... they were something on their own.   
  
He had never encountered such powerful witches before. There were prophecies foretelling their arrival, but nothing had prepared him for what was coming. Nothing *could* have prepared him for what was coming.   
  
But all was better now.   
  
What more could he ask?. Not only did he have the witch at his disposal, but also a new form of demon would fall right into his hands if he waited nine more months... oh, things were looking good. They were looking good indeed.   
  
He hadn't expected the energy drain to be so severe though. When he had come up with the idea of turning the middle sister into one of his assassins, he had prepared a fitting welcome. He had conjured up spells and wards and guards, knowing the witch would be a hissing hurricane once he shimmered them under.   
  
Strangely, she had acted slow and numb.   
  
The brat was probably sucking up all of her energy. And she didn't even know about it!!. Wonderful. Just another thing to use once their little 'sessions' started.   
  
He had tried convincing her with simple words, and twists of the truth.   
  
He had expected her to resist. To fight it. It would make the breaking of her spirit all the better.   
  
Now that he thought of it, maybe he wouldn't *have* to turn her. If he used the brat's existence as leverage, he could control her like a puppet.   
  
He smiled, and glanced back, to the unconscious body of the middle Halliwell sister.   
  
Yes, she was feisty indeed. She would be a nice addition to his Elite guard. A nice addition indeed.   
  
Oh, to see the face of Belthazor when he sent her to fight him...  
  
Priceless. Just priceless.   
  
  
*******************************  
  
  
Phoebe awoke slowly, the pain in her skull aching silently. Her hand came up, and covered her eyes, trying to erase the last shreds of sleep from them.   
  
Gosh, where was she?. The last thing she remembered was talking to Ema... and then going back to the house and---  
  
{Oh. My. God}.   
  
The memories came rushing back like a tidal wave, invading her mind and loading her with the guilt and fear and anger, all over again.   
  
But most of all, she remembered the Source's words.   
  
'your daughter'  
  
{My daughter. I don't believe it. I'm pregnant?}.   
  
Pregnant?. She couldn't be pregnant!. She was on the pill for God's sake!. And Cole had sworn demons were unable to have children. She remembered *that* particular conversation quite well, considering they hadn't spoken to each other for days after it!.   
  
Something she had read in a magazine somewhere jumped forward in her mind:  
  
'The only safe sex, is no sex'.   
  
Great. Fun-fucking-tastic. When she got back, she would castrate the horny little demon, she swore to herself.   
  
Not that the idea of a child wasn't enjoyable. Surprising, yes. Unexpected, most certainly. Phoebe had never even considered the *idea* of marriage, and here she was, getting pregnant by her demonic boyfriend!.   
  
She sighed, and pressed her left hand against her belly, softly making small circles around it.   
  
"Are you really in there, little one?".   
  
"Oh yes she is".   
  
Her eyes snapped up, and widened at the sight of the Source standing a few feet away.   
  
Gosh, she was getting careless. Of course she was still in the Underworld!. How could she have forgotten?. The surprise of the news must've hit her harder than she thought.   
  
One quick look around, and only more stone walls greeted her eyes. Every room was the same down here, every wall identical to the last.   
  
"Leave us alone".   
  
Us?. She was talking in plural?. Weren't women supposed to *know* when they were pregnant?. Didn't they have like a sixth sense for these things?. She had needed a Superior Demon to realize the weariness she had been feeling for the past few days wasn't due to exhaustion!.   
  
She remembered now, that she had skipped her last period.   
  
Her busy schedule had gotten in the way, but now she could remember quite clearly: France. It must've been France. It had to have happened there.   
  
France. With Cole. With a very passionate, apologizing Cole.   
  
The Source began replying to her demand, but the premonition struck her with such strength, her head tilted backwards, and her eyes rolled on the back of her head.   
  
{{A small bundle was being carried away from her, and she knew, she *knew* it was her daughter, the one growing inside of her right now, and she cried out for her, 'give her back!' but she couldn't speak, and the Source was towering above her, rubbing his hands together in barely contained anticipation, and she lay there, unmoving, crying, weeping...}}  
  
Her loud gasp echoed around the empty room, and the Source knew her powers were coming back. Good. He needed her at her best for what was to come.   
  
He let her recover her breath a bit, just enough for her to listen to him above her labored breathing.   
  
"I won't hurt her. Not if you agree to serve me".   
  
Phoebe gasped and heaved, the air sucked out of her lungs at the power of the premonition. It was real, and it was going to happen, unless she did something!.   
  
{Cole, help me!}.   
  
"The traitor cannot hear you. There is no connection between the Underworld and the Surface".   
  
She moaned, as she realized he could *indeed* hear her thoughts. She needed to save her daughter... she knew it was a daughter, could feel it in the soft glow that emanated from her belly. She was still too small to understand, too little to realize the danger they were in---  
  
No, no... but she could see no other way out. It was this, or the death of her daughter.   
  
"How can I trust you?".   
  
"You can not. But it is the only chance I am offering you. Take it, or leave it".   
  
Had things been different, Phoebe wouldn't have hesitated. Had it been only her, she would've chosen to die. She knew her powers weren't meant for evil. And she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her beg for her life.   
  
But it wasn't just her anymore. Things would never be the same, not with the child growing in her womb...  
  
Her daughter. Her daughter, *and* Cole's.   
  
{Oh, Cole. If only you were here}.   
  
If only he knew... if only he knew she was pregnant... any other time and place, it would've been wonderful news. Now, she felt as a heavy load settled upon her small shoulders, and she wept.   
  
Wept, because she knew what her choice would be.   
  
Wept for what she would become.   
  
Because her daughter would not die. Not now, not ever. Not when she had the chance to keep her alive. She was her innocent now, and she clung to the mission set upon her from the day she was born.   
  
Protect the innocent was her destiny. Protect the innocent she would.   
  
Even if it meant loosing a Witch, and rejecting her Call.   
  
{Goodbye, Piper. Goodbye, Paige. Goodbye, Cole, my love}.  
  
She looked up to the dark ceiling, and missed the caress of the sun--- and gave in.   
  
"Okay".   
  
One word. One word is all the Source needed. If the witch gave in voluntarily, there was nothing the Powers that Be could ever do to take her back. Phoebe Halliwell was his, from this moment on.   
  
The irony of it all... he had forgotten how sentimental humans could be. How feelings controlled their actions. Had he remembered it sooner, he may have been able to create a whole army of turned witches!.   
  
"Good. I will mark you now, so that you never forget who your master is".   
  
And before she could react, before she could stop him, before she could even blink, he was upon her, and his shadow embraced her, and Phoebe screamed in pain.   
  
Because whatever fell under the Source's shadow, became his forever.   
  
She cried in silence, as an inverted triangle appeared with a flash of fire in her right forearm, the smell of scorched flesh reaching her nostrils. Her own flesh. Burnt. Marked. Scarred.   
  
{But you're safe, my baby. At least you're safe, my Prue}.   
  
And the name felt right, and for a second, she thought she saw Prue smiling down on her, and stretching out her arms at her, welcoming her in---  
  
Phoebe quailed. She wasn't worthy anymore.   
  
She had struck a deal with the Devil, and bore his mark as proof.   
  
She wasn't worthy of her sisters anymore.   
  
She wasn't worthy of Cole's love.  
  
She was a cast away.   
  
She was dead.  
  
  
***************************  
  
  
TBc... 


	3. Goodbye

** Change of Heart **, chapter 3: Goodbye.   
  
by Lilian.  
  
lilian413@yahoo.com  
  
AN: Okay, chapter 3 is out. I hope you guys like it--- I redid this thing like four times before I was half satisfied with it. But I think it doesn't suck as much as chapter 2...  
  
plase review!.   
  
  
  
**************************  
  
  
  
Cole gasped loudly, attracting attention of peasants walking by.   
  
He paid them no attention.  
  
He doubled over, a sizzling pain in his chest making it heard to breathe.   
  
As people gathered around him, and someone called an ambulance, he closed his eyes, and fought back tears welling up in his eyes. Through the daze of pain that made it hard to think straight and even harder to keep Belthazor in check, he tried to concentrate on something, anything, that would keep him sane.   
  
Phoebe.   
  
With sudden clarity, Phoebe's danced right before his eyes, her eyes sad and teary, and whispering her good-byes.   
  
As soon as it came, it disappeared into the mists if his mind, and for a split second, he wondered whether it hadn't been his imagination. He had had feverish illusions of her before.   
  
But this--- this was different.   
  
It was then that with a loud, audible snap, their connection broke.   
  
Like Atropos, the eldest of Fates, cuts with her golden shears the thread of life, controlling destinies of Gods and mortals alike, Phoebe and Cole's connection came crashing down.   
  
And the consequences were far worse than anyone could have anticipated.   
  
Because it was Phoebe the one who had allowed Cole to retain his sanity through the ordeals they had faced together. It had been Phoebe who had calmed him down during the endless nightmares that plagued his nights, and the daydreams that haunted his days. Phoebe had promised him redemption, and had believed it so strongly, Cole had believed it too.   
  
But now, the link was gone.   
  
Phoebe was gone.   
  
And Cole's trembling hold onto his sanity had pretty much snapped too.   
  
He curled up in a fetal position, something he hadn't done since he had been born, and cried. For the first time in a hundred years, he wept.   
  
Because the love of his life had just been killed.   
  
  
***********************  
  
  
Mind links can be tricky. Some call them a double-edged dagger. Because it works both ways. You can enter someone's mind, but she can enter *your* mind too. Luckily for the Source, Phoebe didn't know that.   
  
As he twisted and turned everything inside her head, he couldn't help but smile. Such fond memories, such precious recollections... all waiting for him to destroy them. The mind-controlling spell had worked perfectly.   
  
He was able to insert thoughts into her mind, and make her believe they were hers.   
  
Excellent.   
  
Humans were so easy to control... their brain still asleep, still unused, allowed properly trained demons to get inside like one enters a house.   
  
Their feelings were their weakness. And he would exploit it like he had never exploited anything before. He had found her button, and now all he had to do, was push, push and push, until she would break beneath the pressure, and become one of them.   
  
Oh yes, she would be an excellent servant. Most excellent indeed.   
  
  
*******************************  
  
  
A couple of days went by.   
  
Phoebe never noticed. Time had blurred into one long, endless constant, where she barely slept, barely ate, and heard the Source's words every single hour of the day.   
  
He refused to touch her, saying no harm would come to her child. And Phoebe thanked him for that. But sometimes she wished he would just beat her, hit her, Gods, slap her!, to stop him from talking.   
  
Stick and stones can't hurt my bones. But words...  
  
The childish saying ran around her head a lot these days.   
  
There had been no rescue attempts... for all she knew, her sisters thought her dead. And Cole--- Cole hadn't come to her either. He was either unable to localize her or--- maybe what the Source said was true.   
  
Maybe he *had* moved on.   
  
For the first three thousand times he had said it, she had laughed in his face.   
  
"Cole loves me".   
  
It had become her mantra. Her motto. He loves me. He loves me. He still loves me.   
  
"Really?. Then why has he not come for you?".   
  
"Because you won't let him!".   
  
Her answers were childish and immature, but the hormones were playing tricks on her, as they run rampage through her petite body. She couldn't think properly, her mind heavy and clouded, and she walked in a daze most of the day.   
  
"Is that so?. Can Belthazor not shimmer in between realms at will?. Have I ever stopped him from coming down here before?".   
  
His words rang true. Phoebe tried to fight them off, to keep them from clinging to her mind like flies onto glue; as spiders they crawled through her memories, making her see, making her realize that maybe Cole had indeed moved on...  
  
Damn estrogens.   
  
She was three months along now. And little Prue had become her most trusted companion. And her most annoying burden.   
  
She talked to her, whenever she was alone. Which wasn't a lot of the time anyway, but still--- it somehow calmed her down, kept her sane... but the morning sickness, and the continuos nausea, and the constant vomiting...   
  
Prue's parenthood was showing, demanding much more nurturing than Phoebe's body could sustain.   
  
Demanding much more magic than Phoebe was able to give.   
  
If things kept going the way they did, both mother and child would be dead within weeks.   
  
  
**************************  
  
  
Piper hadn't smiled for days.   
  
There really wasn't anything to smile about, anyway. She had recently lost a sister, scratch that, *two* sisters, both to Evil. And she just had had it.   
  
Destiny be damned, she had given up.   
  
Leo, Paige and Cole were all the family she had left. And she intended to keep them all safe.   
  
She sat on the windowsill, her eyes lost on the driveway.   
  
Even after Leo had confirmed Phoebe's death with the Elders, she half expected her to show up on their doorstep, safe and sound, a sheepish smile on her face, and a lame excuse explaining her disappearance.   
  
At least, with Prue, they had had a body to bury.   
  
They had had some sense of closure--- and a grave to visit.   
  
But Phoebe--- Phoebe had just vanished.   
  
Disappeared.   
  
And the doubt was killing her.   
  
When Leo had brought a trembling, feverish Cole back to the manor, she had thought it a disease. Something the Source had come up with, or maybe even just a cold he had caught in those cold mausoleum nights---  
  
But he kept mumbling Phoebe's name, and muttering nonsense, as someone who has lost his driving   
force would. They had put him to bed, Phoebe's bed, and only when he smelled her scent in the sheets, and felt the comfort of the familiar mattress beneath him did he rest.   
  
Leo had orbed up, demanding an answer from the Elders.   
  
It had been five days already. Five days in which they knew nothing. And five days, in which there was nothing they could do. Magic just didn't cut it anymore. She had tried bringing Prue back from the dead before--- it didn't work.   
  
And somehow, it just didn't feel right to put Phoebe through the same.   
  
God knows where she was. She needed Leo to come back, to tell her everything was okay--- Cole had slept through everything. He remained in bed, barely conscious, asking for Phoebe, whispering her name, crying for her... and there was nothing Piper could do or say to bring him back.   
  
Leo had said something about a connection being broken. A link shattered, that kept Cole lost in the mists of his own mind. That only time would make it better, and to let him rest and recover.   
  
And still, Leo did not return.   
  
She waited for him, sitting there, biting her fingernails, a habit she had dropped when she graduated highschool returning with a vengeance.   
  
Paige had been a great help. Distraught and weeping, she had taken over the household, and cleaned and cooked and took care of the two grieving shells that cried around the manor.   
  
If it was one thing Paige was, it was practical. And she knew the *three* of them diving in sorrow would be of no help. And even if she was smart enough to stay clear from the Book of Shadows, she was also smart enough to know that what Piper and Cole needed right now, was normality.   
  
So she carried on, taking out the trash, and cleaning the rooms, and dusting the furniture, aware of Piper's ghostly presence all along. Because Piper sat in the windowsill, her eyes fixated on the street, barely moving to pick up a tissue from a box nearby. Day in and day out, she sat there, waiting.   
  
The chimes in the air told her Leo was back.   
  
One look into his eyes was enough for Piper. He need not say anything. She could see the pain in the chocolate orbs, which, without her knowledge, mirrored his expression when he had seen her dead body atop the hospital table--- on the Day that Never Was.   
  
But Piper hadn't seen him them. She was seeing him now.   
  
And she understood.   
  
One look at him, and she marched upstairs.   
  
Silently.  
  
There were no tears left for her to cry. Only a dull pain in her heart, a constant ache that never lessened, even as days went by.   
  
Because she had lost another sister.   
  
And she couldn't handle it.  
  
Not again.   
  
She left Leo downstairs to deal with Paige. She needed some time alone. And Phoebe's room was the quietest from the house.   
  
She didn't remember Cole was sleeping in there until she had already walked in, and was quietly closing the door behind her.   
  
His form was still in the bed, deadly still.   
  
But his features displayed anguish. A tortured soul, he was. Strange, how Destiny never seemed to cut him some slack. His eyes open and unseeing, fixed on a spot in the ceiling that seemed to hold all his interest.   
  
She had remained there, her back pressed against the door, needing the support of the wood, of the paint, of the handle she hadn't yet released--- something familiar to hold on to.   
  
Only their slow breathing had broken the silence in the room. And that was just fine with Piper. She didn't need any more simpathy. She didn't need anyone's pity. She just needed--- what it was that she needed escaped her understanding, but one thing was certain: she would find it here.   
  
In Phoebe's room.   
  
"She's gone, isn't she?".   
  
His voice was so low, his tone so sad, Piper trembled with it.   
  
And she did not look up, because one look into Cole's eyes, and she would break down, and she couldn't break down, not now, not again, not when everything was coming down and things were falling apart---  
  
"Yes".   
  
She whispered it slowly, trying to stop the word from sliding through her clenched teeth. Because maybe, if she didn't say it aloud, it wasn't true.   
  
Cole shifted in the bed, and the swish-swish of sheet sliding against sheet reached her ears. Soft footsteps followed, and then silence.   
  
Piper and Cole had had their share of uncomfortable silences. Especially when he first came back, after Phoebe had supposedly vanquished him.   
  
But this was different.   
  
It was the companionable silence of two who understand each other. The comfortable quiet of two people who have been through enough, and know words just didn't cut it this time.   
  
They stood there for a while, Cole looking out the window, where Phoebe had waited for him to nights to no end, wondering if he was ever coming back; Piper with her back to the door, her hand on a death grip with the handle, her muscles taut, her eyes closed, telling herself to breathe.   
  
In. Out. In. Out.   
  
Inhale. Exhale.   
  
{Don't think. Don't think about anything. Keep your mind blank, keep your thoughts clear. Do not think, because thinking leads to questioning, and I don't have any answers right now, and I don't think I ever will}.  
  
They never knew how long it had been, until crickets began singing, and birds quieting, and the cars running down the street became scarce and few. The soft moonlight entered through the open curtains, covering Phoebe's things, (Phoebe's life!) in a delicate silver glow.   
  
It was eerie, how her things seemed dead--- they were infused with her happiness, with her love, with *her*, and now that she was gone, they seemed to have lost their gleam.   
  
"I don't know what to do".   
  
Her voice shook with contained emotions, and echoed through the room like thunder.   
  
Cole did not answer right away. He stood by the window, his hands clenched into shaking fists, biting the inside of his cheek.   
  
"Remember her".   
  
His voice was steady, but the quiet whisper was enough to tell her he was distraught too.   
  
She never heard him move. Maybe he had shimmered. Frankly, it didn't matter.   
  
What did matter, was that as she looked up for the first time in what seemed like hours, she found herself looking into his deep blue depths, and found in them understanding and kinship.   
  
Piper was trusting by nature. She accepted Cole as he was: a tortured demon looking for redemption. She had had her doubts about him, like everybody else. But the past few weeks, when he had become a habitual resident of the manor, sharing the bed with Phoebe and the house with them, she had gotten to know the half-demon much better.   
  
And she had begun to trust him.   
  
Hesitantly, she stepped forward, needing to feel physical contact. Needing something sold beside her, something she could hold on to.   
  
Cole did not move. But he understood, because he needed it too. He barely nodded, and his body language called her forth.   
  
Softly, slowly, as if afraid to scare him, her arms came around his waist. And she held him.   
  
And he held her.   
  
Piper needed reassurance, needed acceptance.  
  
Cole needed something to hold onto.   
  
They both closed their eyes, and pretended they were with somebody else.   
  
Cole was hugging Phoebe, the body in his arms shifting, becoming smaller, broader, stronger. Hair going blonde, lips becoming fuller, eyes changing.   
  
Piper just immersed herself in the feeling of being held.   
  
She could not look at Leo right now. Not when he was the bearer of the terrible news. Not when somehow, her conscious mind held *him* responsible for Phoebe's death.   
  
Death. How it seemed to linger around the house. How it floated above their heads, like a dark, ominous cloud, striking whenever they thought they were safe.   
  
She breathed deeply, inhaling Cole's unique scent. Of danger, and demon, and human, and pain--- his strong chest was much broader than Leo's and the difference suddenly didn't matter anymore.   
  
Because strong arms were around her, and they were making the pain go away, and she didn't care who it was she was hugging, or even that he was thinking about someone else all along.   
  
Cole let the illusion wash over him.   
  
The wound was still too raw, the pain still too fresh-- fiction mingled with reality, and he was holding Phoebe, and she was safe, in his arms, cuddling with him, purring softly. And she was alive, and safe, and here---  
  
Piper raised her head from Cole's chest, and looked into his eyes.   
  
Cole raised his chin, where it had rested on the top of Piper's head, and looked into her eyes.   
  
In both, unshed tears.   
  
In both, unbelievable pain.   
  
In both, need to forget.   
  
They never noticed how their lips got closer. Piper never felt the tautness of her calves as she raised on her tiptoes, and neither did Cole when the muscles in his neck protested as he brought them down.   
  
Their breaths mixed, caressing each other's cheeks.   
  
The house was silent, the room was dark, and time seemed to stop, as their lips came together.   
  
It was hesitant, at first. Unsure.   
  
But the feeling of lips under their own, of reality, of solidity, of presence--- their kiss became more desperate, wanting, needing, demanding...  
  
Cole strong arms brought Piper closer to his body. Piper's arms came around his neck, and lifted herself more fully.   
  
And they kissed, and as they kissed, they tried to forget, to put it behind, to stop the pain, to stop the hurting---   
  
Piper needed to be loved, to be held; Cole needed someone to love.   
  
But Piper wasn't Phoebe.   
  
And Cole wasn't Leo.   
  
They broke apart slowly, unwilling to let the dizziness go. Unwilling to return to their own bodies, where the pain was waiting to pounce on them like a tiger does its prey.   
  
Piper's lips were swollen, unaccustomed to Cole's passion and need. Blood was flowing too fast through her veins, and it echoed in her ears, and thundered in her brain. Her fingers still locked behind his neck; her lithe body still pressed against his own.   
  
Cole's eyes were clouded, and his breathing was coming in heavy gasps. His arms still linked around her back, holding her close, keeping her near.   
  
In a blink, the illusion broke.   
  
And Cole wasn't holding Phoebe, and Piper wasn't hugging Leo.   
  
And still, they did not part.   
  
Because it was in each other's arms that they found the solace they needed.   
  
Misery loves company.   
  
  
  
**************************  
  
  
Before you kill me, read it again, and realize it is *not* love. It's pain. Period.   
  
TBc... 


	4. Rebirth

** Change of Heart **, chapter 4: Rebirth  
  
by Lilian  
  
lilian413@yahoo.com  
  
AN: Chapter 4 already, oh my!. And this is all because of all the wonderful reviewers who have given me their wonderful comments, and to whom this story is dedicated to!!.   
  
The more you review, the more I write!. I swear, just reading your beautiful words makes want to write faster and faster... I'm a praise-addict, I think! :p  
  
To Barb, who anwered my questions, and without whom this chapter would taste different.   
  
  
******************************  
  
  
The brat wasn't going to make it. And neither would the Witch. He would loose both of them, taken away by incompatible physiologies.   
  
And the Source knew it.   
  
He could sometimes look into the future, only glimpses through his head, but he had seen what might have happened.   
  
If the child came to term, the witch would die.   
  
During birth, the brat would drain her mother dry, her power too strong for her weak human body to hold. The Witch would die during labor, if not sooner. And he would loose his chance at gaining a new type of soldier.   
  
He would have none of that.   
  
He had been raking his brain for the past few days, trying to stop it. To save it. And he had  
come up with a solution.   
  
He would need to bond with the Witch. Share his blood with her, making her stronger, fitter, and more powerful. Through their link, he would be able to slip tiny amounts of power, changing her, shaping her up, making her fit to give birth to a whole new race of demons.   
  
And in the meantime, giving her new powers. Active ones.   
  
What use was a demonic hit man with no powers that can kill?.  
  
He could feel the child's power already--- it was like a halo that surrounded her wherever she went. It was intoxicating. It rippled, and waved, and oozed, heralding a new breed so powerful, it would make any other demon obsolete.   
  
Maybe Belthazor hadn't been a *complete* waste of time.   
  
Still, it disgusted him to no end, the idea of bonding with a Witch. But the brat--- the brat would be worth it. He knew she would. Still, he had his doubts.   
  
If he bonded to the Witch, sharing his blood with her, it would bind them together.   
  
Although she would probably ignore the consequences, and remain oblivious to the connection, the Source was still hesitant.   
  
Demon-to-demon bonding wasn't unusual on itself. Comrades in arms did it all the time, whether they knew it or not. But demon-to-witch, and especially demon-to-Charmed-one... it was a totally different concept.   
  
On the other hand, if he did go through with it, he would be able to completely control her. With his blood running through her system, he would slowly gain complete control of her psyche. Which on itself was a good thing, considering the possibilities of the Witch's sisters of trying to turn her back.   
  
Intelligent witches were scarce these days. That's why they had had such success in killing them. If he did go through with the bonding, she would become smarter, somehow gaining part of the knowledge he had acquired throughout the ages.   
  
Another drawback.   
  
Was he willing to risk thousands of years worth of work, of power, for one hybrid?. For one little crossbreed, wailing, newborn and useless for the first years of her life?.   
  
To his surprise, he found himself saying yes.   
  
It would be worth it.   
  
Who knew what powers the brat would possess. Levitation, shimmering, energy balls, premonitions-- and all the others possibilities that still remained unexplored. Fire balls, time freezing, deflection, telekinesis, energy drains, blinking, morphing--- the list was endless.   
  
And all to his service.   
  
Once the brat was born, he would have two mighty warriors at his disposal. Mother and Child, working for *him*. For Evil.   
  
It totally blew away the cons' side of the scale.   
  
Totally.   
  
But first, he needed her to be willing. And Belthazor had just given him the perfect chance to accomplish that.   
  
Through their link, he had watched with interest as he kissed the Eldest Charmed One. And even he had to admit the half-breed was cunning. Barely days after his Witch went missing, and he was already trying to bed another one of them!.   
  
He floated over to where the Witch lay, her eyes weary and tired. He noticed how her fingers absently scratched his mark on her. It was through there that he would enter, and through there he would control.   
  
Scratch as she might, that mark would never fade. It was more than her skin what he had burnt; it was her soul.   
  
"What do you want now?".   
  
As days went by, her voice changed. Her throat was raw, as she had abused it screaming for hours to no end. That, and the fact the air was different down here, thicker, making sounds travel differently.   
  
Good. She was already adapting.   
  
"Merely to show you something, my sweet".   
  
Her eyes flashed with anger for a second, and Phoebe Halliwell shone through. But only for a second. It then receded into the back of her mind, tired and lonely.   
  
"You never do something just for the pleasure of it. And stop 'sweeting' me. It's disgusting".   
  
There was still fire in her. He would need that.  
  
He had let her get away with most of what she said. Demons far more powerful than she would *ever* be, had died for less than that. But if it was one thing the Source was, it was patient.   
  
And his time had come.   
  
"Silence, Witch, and look".   
  
He ran his long fingers up and down her cheeks, almost like a caress. Phoebe was too exhausted to push him away. That did not stop her from shivering in disgust. Every time he touched her it was--- revolting!. Her insides churned at his touch, and her mind shook, nauseated.   
  
But this time, it was different. It wasn't just the sick thrill of making her squirm. This time, he wanted her to see what her precious Belthazor was doing, while she was trapped in the Underworld.   
  
He sent the image through, and waited.   
  
He need not wait long.   
  
Phoebe's went glazed, as the image entered her brain. A lot like a premonition, she let it come forth, knowing resistance would be useless.   
  
And what she saw, broke her heart.   
  
Because she had already lost hope, but still kept his love as a lifeline.   
  
But now, she didn't even have *that* to hold on to.   
  
She watched helplessly as Cole kissed Piper. Her sister. Her beloved older sister. The one who she had confided to, the one she had trusted above them all. Piper. Piper and Cole. Kissing.   
  
Kissing passionately.   
  
In her own room, for crying out loud!.   
  
She remained there, unmoving, waiting for the images to stop.   
  
And she wondered whether the curse set upon her soul wasn't taking its effect on her. Because things just couldn't get any worse.   
  
"Demonic love does not exist. It's only lust".   
  
Cole had said those same words to her a long time ago. And when the Source whispered them in low tones, hushed and meaningful, she feared the truth they carried within them.   
  
Because she now knew Cole did not love her.  
  
"Finally. You understand now?".   
  
She couldn't accept it. She couldn't nod at his words, even if she knew them to be right. She had just lost the one thing she still cared about... and lost it to her own sister.  
  
Hopeless, her body crumbled under the pressure, loosing the confident stance she had carried for days now. Hanging on. Holding onto something she thought she had.   
  
Love.   
  
Love that never existed. Love that never was.   
  
Gods, how could she have been so stupid?.   
  
"I can make it better".   
  
{You can?. You think you can just erase the breaking of my heart, the destruction of my faith?.   
Believe me, you cannot. No one can. The only one who ever stood a chance at mending me is now in the arms of my sister...}.  
  
To say she was in shock was a misunderstanding.   
  
Phoebe was lost.   
  
What's left when your family leaves you?. What can be done when your love betrays you?.   
  
Her heart thundered in her ears, muffling her sobs. Was she really crying?. She couldn't feel tears on her cheeks--- but her eyes stung, burnt by the tears she wasn't shedding.   
  
Her whole world had just collapsed in on her. Even when she had accepted the Source's blackmail, she had always kept her hopes high. Cole would save her. Cole would come for her. Her sisters would look for her, and come and rescue her.   
  
It was that idea that kept her going, the certainty that somehow, Piper and Paige and Cole and Leo would find a way to release her from the Source's grasp.   
  
But now--- now there was nothing left.   
  
She felt herself falling, falling as she had fallen when Prue died. Because the floor had just vanished from under her feet, and there was nothing she could hold on to. Cole had been her rock, her strength in those dark days, still so painfully close. Piper was too immersed in her own pain, and Leo was busy consoling *her*... that left her alone. Alone to deal, to cope with a reality that had just slapped them in the face.   
  
What was she supposed to do now?.   
  
"I can make it better".   
  
The Source hated repeating himself. Now that he thought of it, he hadn't had to do so in hundreds of years. When he spoke, demons and warlocks alike listened. But it seemed as if the Witch wasn't listening.   
  
She seemed pretty damn gone, for him.   
  
Her eyes vacant and lost, her eyes fixated on something he couldn't see. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to show that to her just now. Maybe he should've waited a little longer, until she was stronger...  
  
He had seen, (and been the cause of) as humans crumbled under the weight of their own feelings. Had watched, laughing, as they went into depressions so low, he couldn't quite get the hang of them.   
  
He sometimes forgot humans were different. That sadness could kill them faster than any disease could. That they sought happiness so hard, they sometimes missed it, even when it lay right under their noses.   
  
Great!. He probably overloaded her brain too quickly. Ahhg!. He *hated* dealing with weaklings like these!.   
  
"How?".   
  
Her voice was low and hushed, as if she was speaking through clenched teeth. One look at her, and he realized she was.   
  
Phoebe was a very complex woman. Many would've labeled her crazy. But through layers and layers of grins, witty comebacks and dangerous lifestyles, lay an insecure young woman, still doubtful of her own worth.   
  
Her powers had come in a very weak point in her life. Running from her past in New York, returning to a place where she knew she wasn't welcome, looking for a brighter future, adapting to roommates who viewed her as a nuisance--- the weight of responsibility falling on her fragile shoulders all too suddenly, consuming her time, covering her uncertainties, hiding them from sight.   
  
And her life had become a roller coaster, never stopping, never ending, never giving her time to breathe. Never once did she stop and try to come to terms with what she was carrying inside...  
  
Hell, she probably had more emotional baggage than Cole himself!.   
  
She had always been the youngest, the black sheep in the family, the prodigal daughter who never completely repented of her sins. She had never had a mother to nurture her... lost her at the tender age of three, so young, so naive, so impressionable.  
  
Penny Halliwell had been too consumed in her own pain, in her own loss, to realize she was loosing her youngest grandchild--- to life nonetheless. And she came to her senses too late, when the damage was already done.   
  
And now--- when things were looking up, when it finally seemed she would have time to heal, her life took another turn, and left her dazed and lost in the process.   
  
And the low self-esteem, hidden behind sassy attitudes and rude comments resurfaced with a vengeance.   
  
The Source didn't even need to twist her thoughts... they became twisted on their own. Oh, the wonders of having a conscience. It was a demon's best friend, when it came to undermining someone's self confidence to the point of insanity.   
  
"Blood Link. We will share blood. And you will become powerful. Powerful enough to get your revenge".   
  
She hadn't really thought of revenge. She just wanted to forget. Maybe, the Source could give her what she so longed for.   
  
Peace. Maybe in the darkness, she could find peace.   
  
The Light had sure as hell brought her nothing but pain!.   
  
But when he mentioned it, something ignited in her. Emotional scars had been accumulating for the   
past three years, and they were just *screaming* for a way out. And with Phoebe's first, little hesitation, they slipped right through the crack in her armor, and presented her with a whole new different point of view.   
  
Why settle for acceptance, when she could make them pay?.   
  
All of them, one by one--- the idea seemed more appealing by the second. Piper, with her I'm-wholier-than-thou attitude; Leo, with his weak temper and dull conversation; Paige, with the life Phoebe so longed to have; and Cole---   
  
Oh yes, revenge sounded nice indeed.   
  
And things became clear to her, as the Source spoke. She could have her revenge--- she would make them pay for their betrayal. She could make them suffer, like she was suffering now. All the pain she had endured, all the torture she had had to abide--- for *them* nonetheless!. She would send it back to them.   
  
No more doubts clouded her mind, no more questions pestered her thoughts. Only one thing remained constant, in the sizzling whirlwind of change than overcame her.   
  
Payback.   
  
Revenge is a dish best served cold, they say. Oh she would wait. She would wait all right. As soon as her daughter was born, she would resurface, and make them pay.   
  
Because little Prue was an innocent. She had never done her any wrong... and it would only be her and her Prue, together, against the demon and the witch.   
  
She raised her cold, dead eyes up to the demon looming over her. And even such an old, ancient evil like the Source himself, shivered slightly at the hatred he saw in them.   
  
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.   
  
"Do it".   
  
He was surprised she had actually accepted. Something told him it wasn't just Belthazor's betrayal--- whatever had possessed her to accept, had been cooking for a long time. Belthazor was just the last straw.   
  
Still reeling with the heady taste of victory, he nodded slowly.   
  
He took her soft hand in his own. A long, black fingernail came forward, so long, so vicious, that just by looking at it, Phoebe trembled in fear. Almost like a caress, he drew his fingernail over her palm. She did not even flinch when her soft skin parted under the pressure, and hot, red blood gushed out.   
  
A thin red line.   
  
Detached, she wondered if that wasn't a movie title...   
  
She watched, unmoving, as he did the same. His own red skin mixed with his blood, welcoming it... funny, she never though the Source would bleed red. Only half demons do.   
  
She had learnt *that* much from the bastard.   
  
And it was information that would one day come in handy.   
  
"My Blood".   
  
His whisper was low and strained, almost draining...   
  
And Phoebe somehow knew what she had to say. The words rolled off her mouth, slid through her tongue, and she let them, she welcomed them, she embraced them---  
  
"*My* blood".   
  
She raised her hand, the red droplets shinning in the candlelight, almost like wine...  
  
He lowered his, his hand so much bigger than hers---  
  
Their hands touched, and their palms fused, and their blood mixed.   
  
"Our blood".   
  
And lightning cracked, and black light emerged from their fused hands, and darkened the room even further. And Phoebe had to close her eyes at the onslaught of power that took hold of her.   
  
It itched at first. Quickly, the itch grew, creeping up from her hand and into her arm, through her neck and into her heart. It was like sticking her finger in a socket--- strange, and unsettling... but addictive.   
  
Her eyes rolled on the back of her head, and just before she passed out, she heard the Source gasping for breath, as the contact broke, and the link was established.   
  
Because he had never thought it would take this much energy to bond with her. But now he had, and there were consequences to be paid.   
  
For both of them.   
  
  
**********************  
  
  
Leo trusted Cole. Ever since he had risked his life to safe Piper, throwing himself in the way for bounty hunters to take him to the Source, his doubts had been erased and his trust earned.   
  
Saving his wife scored as the highest in his list.   
  
That was why he didn't care about the touchy-feely way they behaved around each other since--- Phoebe. It still hurt to think about it. Really, he did not care at all. Well, maybe a little.   
  
He remembered as Piper had gone upstairs, and locked herself up in Phoebe's room. It wasn't until they came out together, long hours later, that he realized Cole had been in there too.   
  
The fact that his arm was around Piper's waist struck him as odd at first.   
  
When they hugged each other good night, he began worrying.   
  
After all, Cole had this whole 'tall, dark and handsome' thing going on, and he *knew* for a fact women liked that. And he also knew he couldn't compete with that. He found the 'not-so-tall, light and cute' category fitted him better.   
  
But throughout his years as a Whitelighter, Leo had seen how people dealt with pain. And he clearly remembered as Piper had recoiled under his touch when Prue had been killed. The fact that he had confirmed Phoebe's death had probably hurt Piper's psyche much more than she let herself know.   
  
So he let it slide, and squashed the little green bug of jealousy that reared his head whenever Cole approached his wife.   
  
Because he knew Cole was hurting too.   
  
Could see it in his eyes, haunted and cloudy, ever since Phoebe had---   
  
It didn't feel right. It just didn't feel right. Phoebe and death in the same sentence. Phoebe and party. Phoebe and fun. Heck, even Phoebe and sex. But even the idea of the feisty, energetic woman he had grown to love as his own sister, laying somewhere, cold, unmoving, *dead* felt wrong.   
  
But the Elders had confirmed it.  
  
And now the Power of Three had been broken again. And this time, there was no hope at reconstituting it.   
  
And the thought scared him more than he could bear.   
  
As he lay in bed, Piper's warm body seeking his own in her sleep, as she dared not do when awake, he asked whomever may be listening if their life was cursed.   
  
There was never a moment to breathe. To relax.   
  
Pain and death, and sorrow and betrayal came one after the other, unforgiving, unmerciful--- never-ending. And there was only so much someone could handle before they broke.   
  
What would become of the sisters?. What would become of *them*?. Of two powerful witches, who have broken every *single* rule in the Universe; of the tortured half-demon who had defied all the laws of Nature, and fallen for a Witch?; and of a whitelighter who dared fall in love *and* marry one of them?.  
  
He sighed, and wished none of this had happened. But wishing just didn't cut it anymore.  
Because their lives were broken. And there was little hope in mending them back together.   
  
But one thought remained in his mind, as he drifted off to sleep.  
  
'two powerful witches, a half-demon and a whitelighter'  
  
And a plan began taking shape in his head, even as his mind shut down.   
  
He would sleep on it, all right.  
  
  
*******************************  
  
  
TBc....  
  
  
AN2: Before you start flaming me, read this: throughout the series, I've always seen Phoebe as a very--- well, a very complex woman. With a past like hers, and then her destiny thrust in her face, she has never had the time to really adjust to it.   
  
No one changes like that without some serious inner conflict. And the 'Charmed' writers have let us see some glimpses of that, in 'Is there a Woggie in the house?', for example. I truly believed she struggles with herself every day, and I just that to my advantage in here.   
  
As to why she gave in... Phoebe has always been the sister most prone to crossing over, IMHO. I mean, Piper has way too many attachments to the real world, Prue did whatever she felt like doing, and just didn't take orders, and Paige--- well, Paige is new to this thing, and hasn't had the chance to get a feel of what evil is like.   
  
But Phoebe has always struggled with both side... refer to 'Hell hath no fury', 'Morality Bites', 'Bride & Gloom' and many, many other episodes in which she tilts to the other side. Evil is alluring, in Prue's words. And Phoebe likes danger, we all know that, don't we?.   
  
Email me, and we can make a whole debate out of this!! :p  
  
If you still don't believe me, just--- blame the Source for it. He went into Phoebe's head, and presented her with atractive visions of what she could do if she gave in.   
  
BTW, I'm assuming the Source bleeds red, since he did in 'Brain Drain', when he he was in a human form. Probably bleed blu or something, but for the purpouse of this story, he will bleed red. Oh, did anyone else notice how Cole's wanna-be (the black demon from 'Black as Cole') bled red too?. How's that?. How many half-demons can there be anyway?. 


	5. Acceptance

** Change of Heart **, chapter 5: Acceptance  
  
by Lilian.   
  
lilian413@yahoo.com  
  
AN: I'm placing 'Black as Cole' about a month after 'Enter the Demon'. That would make Phoebe about a month into her pregnancy when this story started. Keep that in mind, okay?.   
  
Please review!  
  
**********************************  
  
  
  
It had been two months already. Two months Paige would give anything to forget. Two months of questions, interrogations and intrusions--- some friends of Phoebe's, seeing as she had missed some long-term appointment, had called the police.   
  
And the police had broken into a silent house.   
  
A house where one of the occupants had been missing for a month, and no 'missing person' had being reported. And this aroused suspicions. Because the 1329 Prescott house had always been strange. Neighbors reported late night screaming, and sudden power outrages, and blinking lights when there was nobody around... the manor had become a late night story for children.   
  
'Eat your dinner, or the witches across the street might come and get you'.   
  
How right they were.   
  
And at the same time, so wrong.   
  
Piper and Cole were in no condition to be answering the officer's questions. And that rendered them as suspects. Paige had to use most of her looks and pub-tricks to get officer Noisy's attention away from the fuming eldest sister.   
  
Piper had been *this* close to blowing him up.   
  
Leo had to physically restrain Cole, to keep him from hurting a police officer.   
  
Attracting attention to themselves was the least they needed right now.   
  
Things were quieter these days, the initial shock already gone, leaving behind only pain and acceptance. The police had filed a report, and Phoebe's name had been added to the thousands of others that remained as 'Unsolved Cases'.   
  
Because, as far as the police knew, the girl was still alive.   
  
They couldn't tell them they knew she was dead. That the Powers That Be had confirmed her gone, and that Cole's blood shot eyes were not because of drugs, but because he cried himself to sleep every night, now could they?.  
  
Phoebe's past helped to settle them down too.   
  
She had a history. She had a record. Child delinquent, juvenile delinquent, and they traced her steps all the way back to New York, in which they found several pending arrest orders with her name on them.   
  
And they decided the girl had a million reasons to want to dissappear.  
  
Fools.   
  
They had no idea.   
  
There had been no more calls for a week now. No more 'Ms. Halliwell has been seen' somewhere in the US. No more interviews about whether they believed their family to be cursed or not. No more reporters trying to get an exclusive with the family with the worst luck in all San Francisco.   
  
And Paige was thankful.   
  
Besides, there were other matters that demanded their undivided attention.   
  
Like Leo's whackout plan, for example.   
  
When he first brought up the idea, Paige had almost slapped him. How dare he say those things, when Phoebe's body was still cooling down somewhere?.   
  
But the soft-spoken whitelighter had insisted.   
  
And after the first half an hour of discussion, the idea didn't seem so bad.   
  
Because Paige had grown to like Phoebe. Her older sister, (she had sisters!), had received her with her arms open, and a smile on her face. And they had gone through a lot together... they had switched bodies, for crying out loud!.   
  
And Phoebe hadn't seemed *that* angry... not Piper-angry, anyway.   
  
Phoebe was the older sister Paige had always wanted to have. Outgoing, carefree, ready to jump at anything that came their way--- Paige really looked up to her. Sure, Piper was the oldest one, and hence, the most serious... but Paige was still young, and she needed a friend more than a mentor.   
  
So, when Leo had brought back the news of her demise, it was like she had lost a part of herself. Because with Prue--- well, she never had really *met* her, she had just felt the loss through their blood. But Phoebe, Phoebe she had known, and she had cared for, and she had loved...   
  
And it hurt.   
  
It hurt more than she remembered.   
  
That's why she had finally agreed with Leo's plan.   
  
To avenge her. To make whatever demon who killed her, suffer.   
  
Because Leo wanted to keep on fighting.   
  
A few days after--- it had happened, he had called them all into the living room, and made a proposition so bizarre, it had blown them all away.   
  
Paige had just assumed that with Phoebe gone, their Charmed duty had gone out the window. But Leo had suggested they go on, fighting in Phoebe's memory.  
  
"Are you out of your freaking mind?".   
  
Cole's voice still retained some of it's old quality. The richness that had made Paige's knees wobble when she first met him.   
  
"Cole, just listen to him".   
  
They were two against two. Piper and Cole refused to even consider the idea. Paige and Leo had discussed it earlier, and were trying to convince them now.   
  
"I don't have to listen to anything. I will not fight. Period".  
  
Piper didn't say anything, but her body language was screaming 'no'.   
  
"Think about all the innocents that still need protection".  
  
They were running out of arguments, and the opposing couple seemed no more convinced than when they had started.   
  
"I'm a *demon*, Leo. Demons kill. Demons do not save people".  
  
His body was slouched against the fireplace, his back towards them. His fists against the wall, his head hiding between his arms. It had been a slow path to recovery... a path he still sometimes strayed off, and delayed his recuperation.   
  
"Phoebe didn't believe that".   
  
Cole's reaction to her name was pained, to say the least. His whole body stiffened, his eyes shut close, and his teeth bit his bottom lip to avoid screaming.   
  
Her name had become both a prayer and a curse for him.   
  
And Paige knew it. And she knew the best way to convince him, was to make him realize this is what Phoebe would've wanted.   
  
"Phoebe's *dead*, Paige. That was her reward for saving innocents. Death!".   
  
Leo's hand on Paige's shoulder prevented her from shaking some sense into Cole. He shook his head, and she had to refrain herself, knowing by now that Leo understood and knew more things that he let anyone into.   
  
"I think that what Paige's trying to say, is that this is what Phoebe would've liked us to do".   
  
Leo had seen where Paige was going. And he also understood Cole's seemingly mean disposition towards her. Paige reminded him of Phoebe. More so than Piper ever would.   
  
The two youngest were very much alike.   
  
As the two oldest once were.  
  
That statement, with all the truth it carried, cut through Cole's misery, and actually made sense. But he remained quiet, struggling with his own pain. He wasn't sure if he was ready to alleviate other's as well.   
  
"What do the Elders say?".   
  
It was the first time Piper had spoken, ever since they had gathered together. And her voice was strained, and devoid of any emotion. Because it hurt too much to feel.   
  
"They don't approve. They say your destiny was thwarted, and that you are no longer in need of a whitelighter, or their assistance for that matter".   
  
Magical words.   
  
Because, just like a child who finds a thrill in doing what's forbidden, so did Piper. Especially with those that had royally screwed up her life.   
  
She had held a grudge against them for a long time. Ever since Leo had died in her arms, albeit the power switch she had done. They were the cause for much pain, and little gain. They demanded a lot, and gave so little... she had only kept up with them because it was the only way they knew.   
  
But frankly, she had *had* it.   
  
Maybe it was time they took control of their own lives--- it took two deaths for her to realize that the Charmed Ones were above councils and elders. They had survived for three years, alive and unharmed.   
  
And when they tried to tighten the reins, things had gone downhill.   
  
Natalie's face still haunted her dreams sometimes.   
  
Along with Prue's and Phoebe's these days. Because, just what was different about her that kept her alive?. What was so special about good old Piper, that had made her survive what her sisters could not?.   
  
As far as she was concerned, a whole lot of coincidences.   
  
And if now, she could make Phoebe's death a little less painful, by punishing those who had killed her, and at the same time defy the orders of those who loved to play with their lives, then so be it.   
  
"I'm in".   
  
Paige's raised eyebrows were prominent in the room. Probably a trait she inherited from Sam, since none of the Halliwells could do it.   
  
"You are?".   
  
Leo's smile said thank you in more ways than one. And Piper realized she had, once again, pushed him away. She really had to stop doing that... Leo was only the messenger. And she had developed a habit out of killing him.   
  
She smiled back at him, hesitantly, unsure whether she was ready to be smiling again. Unsure about she was worthy to be smiling again. As she slowly nodded, she vowed to herself that she would protect them with her life.   
  
Protect all the family she had left.   
  
"Fine, then. I'm in too".   
  
There was only one reason why Cole accepted. Only one reason why he had gone against every single cell in his being, which screamed at him to walk away. And again, it had a name.   
  
Phoebe.   
  
He had promised her he would watch over her sisters. Over her family.   
  
On one of the rare occasions in which her worries seemed to get the best out of her, Phoebe had made him promise he would take care of them. Because she understood Cole was immortal, and she was not.   
  
Sure, he had planned to remain as the old, creepy uncle who sometimes came to visit. An ageless companion, watching over a family that would whisper his name in hushed tones, and call him their guardian angel.   
  
Demons were not without a sense of irony.   
  
He had expected to return every seven years, to see how they were doing. It was strange, how he, with his almost eternal life span, thought more about the future that Phoebe ever did. But he had expected that task to be delayed several decades, if he had anything to do with it.   
  
He hadn't.   
  
Phoebe had been taken away from him, whisked out of his grasp, and killed.   
  
Killed.   
  
He understood death. He had killed many, back in the old days. Tortured several hundreds, and enjoyed every single one of them. But he had never experienced this.   
  
The consuming, bottomless pit of pain.   
  
He didn't understand why it hurt so much. Was it worth loving her, knowing she would die long before he would?. And not old, and happy in her own bed, as he had wished... but tortured, and suffering, in God knows where?.   
  
Yes, it was.   
  
It was definitely worthy.   
  
'it's better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all'  
  
Yeah, right. But nowhere in that saying did it explain how to deal with the consequences. How to pick up the pieces, and move on.   
  
Maybe this way his way out.   
  
Maybe this was how he could finally find redemption, and meet her on the other side.   
  
That's why he had accepted.   
  
Because maybe, just maybe, this would earn him an eternity with her.   
  
  
*************************  
  
  
She had lost track of time a long time ago. Her watch had stopped running the second she had been shimmered down here, human batteries not made to handle the heavy amounts of energy running loose through the place.   
  
But she was betting it had been like seven weeks. Give or take.   
  
Seven weeks, in which she had been learning.   
  
Practicing.   
  
And right now, they were back on the training field.   
  
She was much stronger now. Ever since she had bonded with the Source, the nausea had disappeared, and the continuous feeling of weariness had vanished. She was back to her old self. Almost.   
  
Her belly was beginning to swell. And even if she sworn to herself, as she had watched so many expecting mothers doing back when she was on the Surface, that she would never caress her belly in that circular, slow motion, she found herself doing it quite often.  
  
It was relaxing.   
  
Prue's little body was growing inside of her, safe and sound with the Source's energy running through her. And she thanked the Gods above for the wonders of placenta. Because it was *her* placenta, designed and crafted with her DNA, that protected her baby from harm.   
  
The Source could not taint her daughter until she was born.   
  
And she was thankful for that. She would worry about the premonition she had when the time came.   
  
"Focus, Phax".   
  
She had chosen that name. She had denied her own name, since the day she had given in. Phoebe Halliwell was dead. It was time for Phax to come forward. She needed a name short enough to be remembered easily, and powerful enough to be remembered by everyone who dared speak it that it heralded death. So, she mixed her own name, with the one of the demon she hated the most.   
  
Shax.   
  
Shax had taken from her something she held very dear. And ingrained himself in her mind in the process.   
  
And so Phax had been born. Out of the ashes of a demon and a Witch. Neither and none.   
  
She wasn't a witch turned into a demon. She wasn't a demon turned from a Witch. She was different. She was a lost soul, seeking vengeance for what wrongs had been made upon her. Which, by the way, were too many to count.   
  
A black fireball hit her square in the legs, throwing her off balance, and onto the ground. It would hurt for the next days... until her healing abilities kicked in and took care of it.   
  
"I said, *focus*".   
  
She rolled once she hit the ground, and sprang back up on her feet. Which was getting harder as days went by, as her gravity center shifted from her belly button and down to her hips and upper legs.   
  
"All right, all right. I hear you".  
  
It was just her luck, working against her again. Not only was she being trained by the Source himself, but she had to be *pregnant* during the whole thing!.   
  
"Do not be distracted. They will kill you if you hesitate".   
  
She looked at him, knowing that he spoke the truth. How had he survived for so long, if not without extreme caution and care?.   
  
"Now, try again".   
  
She breathed deeply, as she tried to get her energy to gather.   
  
Since the baby within her was still growing, it would be dangerous for her to try teleportation magic. Broken molecules, and all. So, the Source had decided to teach her fireballs, instead.   
  
Not that he had much luck at it, but still.   
  
She closed her eyes, and stretched out her hand.   
  
"Open your eyes. What is the use of firing energy balls if you can not see your enemy?".   
  
She snorted at the irony of it all. Here she was, being trained by the most powerful enemy she had ever had to face, and even *he* could find blips in her technique.   
  
"Cut me some slack, would you?. I'm new at this!".   
  
The Source shimmered, and reappeared within inches of her, towering over her like a dark shadow of doom. Which he actually *was*, but that's beside the point.   
  
"I will not have you slipping. My personal assassin must be deadly and accurate. At this point, you're neither".   
  
Phoebe's lips tightened into one thin, taut line, and her eyes flared up... as the Source's power flowed through her, it also gave her some of his short temper.   
  
"We began practicing today!. I've just had a few hours to try and master a technique that takes others years to learn!. How in the name of God do you expect me to summon a stupid fireball just like THAT!".   
  
Her last word was accentuated with a loud crash on the other side of the room, as a fireball exploded against the furthest wall. Phoebe shrieked at the sound of it, surprised.   
  
Only then did she realize the Source hadn't moved. And that the same hand she had stretched out earlier, was now pointing to the very same wall that had being hit.   
  
Amazed, she brought her hand back, and examined her fingers.   
  
Not a burn, not a scratch.   
  
"I sense great power in you, Phax. Do not waste it in lame excuses like that".   
  
Lame?. Lame??. She had just fired a fireball, for Christ's sake!. She, who had never had an active power before, had thrown a fireball!. With actual fire!.   
  
Ecstatic, her eyes glowed in the dark, her long fingernails gleaming with candlelight.   
  
"Again".   
  
She only nodded this time, not daring to cross him again.   
  
She focused, and stretched her fingers, creating a vortex in between her fingers. Like he had taught her, she slowly let it gather, letting it flow through her, summoning the energy that lay dormant around her...  
  
There was a little spark that went off right above her palm.   
  
And a cattish grin danced through her lips, as it grew, and gained strength and power.   
  
"Another one".   
  
Slowly, never once looking away from her right hand, she raised her left one. And repeated the process. It was slower this time, both from the concentration the first one demanded, and the fact that she was right handed, and her left side had always been sloppier.   
  
But in the end, she did it anyway.   
  
And the satisfaction was enormous, as she slowly handled them, still afraid of getting burnt. Fire was not to be meddled with lightly. She had learnt that much the first few hundred times. Her combusted hair was all the proof she needed.   
  
She had wanted to cut it, anyway.   
  
"Mix them".   
  
She had almost forgotten he was around... she had grown used to his presence. It was like clothing: in the morning, when you first put them on, they itch all over. Once your body gets used to it, you don't feel it any longer.   
  
Her eyes shinning with the flames in her hands, she brought them together.   
  
They sizzled as they made contact, and seemed resistant.   
  
She pushed on, forcing them to mix.   
  
The blast hit her right on the chest.   
  
When the two fireballs came in contact, they exploded in a bright flash of light. The smell of burnt skin reached her nostrils, and it was only when she looked down that she realized it was her own. Luckily, since she had burnt her clothing a long time ago, she had been brought some demonic uniform.   
  
And it was flame resistant.   
  
Her fingers ached and stung--- the palms and fingertips burnt. It wasn't fatal, but it would hurt like hell for days. No healing factor could cure this fast enough.   
  
"Never mix right and left. Throw one, and then the other. Or this will happen".   
  
She looked up to the Source, who lounged in the far side of the room, standing. Now that she thought of it, she had never seen him sitting, or leaning on anything--- didn't he get backaches?.   
  
"Couldn't have told me sooner?".   
  
He smirked, and even from across the room, she heard his chuckle.   
  
"What would be the fun, then?".   
  
She made a face at him, and stood up. Strangely, none of her injuries were located around her midsection. She blamed it on him. Probably put a protection spell or something, around her belly. Good.   
  
Little Prue was safe. Safe from her mistakes.   
  
"Ready for more?".   
  
She knew better than to ask for a time out. Cole hadn't given her one. Neither would the Source. Or any other enemy she would ever face, for that matter. Demons took training as seriously as they did real fighting--- probably why they lived so long.   
  
She took a deep breath, and nodded.   
  
And she went on practicing.   
  
Learning.   
  
Improving.   
  
She would need it for when the time came.   
  
  
  
**************************  
  
  
Tbc.... 


	6. Remembering

** Change of Heart **, chapter 6: Remembering  
  
by Lilian  
  
lilian413@yahoo.com  
  
AN: Watched 'Muse to my ears'. And my own Muse got the hint, and started inspiring me again. this is the result. Hope you like.   
Review!.   
  
  
  
******************************  
  
  
  
"Are you sure about this?".   
  
It was a dark night, the moon hiding behind the heavy winter clouds. A young woman walked down a darkened alley, her stance shaky and afraid. By her side, a tall, handsome man, whose shadow cast long shapes along the sidewalls.   
  
It was late. It was dangerous.   
  
So were they.   
  
"I'm sure. Piper scried, and it kept coming back here".   
  
"But there's nothing here!".   
  
Paige still retained some of her impatience. Demons had been laying low for the past few weeks, and the ex-Charmed one knew it wasn't good. Even she could grasp that when evil went missing, you were not to let your guard down.   
  
"Let's go over it one more time".   
  
Cole kept an eye on her, as they walked through the empty back street. He knew there was something here--- could feel the demonic scent in the air. He just couldn't see it yet.   
  
"But we've gone over for like four times already!. I'm cold, and I'm hungry, and I need a bath!".   
  
Paige's whitelighter half could feel the presence of evil. Not that she could make a difference between that particular feeling, and cramps, but hey, her period wasn't due for another two weeks.   
  
"I'll agree with you on that last thing".   
  
She playfully slapped on his shoulder, and contained the need to blow a raspberry at him.   
  
Ever since they had accepted Leo's plan, they had been fighting evil. In a new, never seen before way. Piper and Paige still had powers. Pretty powerful powers. Temporal stasis, and molecule acceleration, coupled with orbing telekinesis still kicked ass.   
  
Sure, it needed Leo's orbing and healing powers, and Cole's energy balls to work, but still.   
  
The Council had turned its back upon them, Cole's alliance becoming too much to bear. They had let them get away with almost anything--- rutabagas, improper clothing, whitelighter corrupting... Cole moving into the manor, and helping them fight, while still a *demon*, was enough.   
  
It was still a wonder to them why they hadn't crippled Leo's wings. Maybe there were four someone's up there pulling for them.   
  
Good.   
  
They needed all the help they could get.   
  
Paige walked with a confident stride, her previous frightened demeanor gone, knowing that Cole would protect her. But, at the same time, confident in her own skills. Ever since Phoebe had gone missing, she had started taking kickboxing lessons. Both in memory to her beloved older sister, and because she really needed something to help herself in physical combat.   
  
Things were looking better these days. Almost four months since the day, Piper had resurfaced from the depths of her anguish, and returned to Charmed mode full time.   
  
Cole had realized that maybe this would indeed be a way to reunite with Phoebe. And besides, he got a kick whenever they vanquished a new demon. But he knew which one was to blame.   
  
Had heard him in his sleep, taunting, mocking--- he had seen Phoebe's body, torn and ripped and lifeless. Lying in the Underworld's floor, her blood seeping into the ground. He had woken up sweating from that particular nightmare.   
  
A nightmare he was sure wasn't one at all.   
  
Because he knew the Source could communicate with him. And he knew that he was showing him the truth.   
  
And he had begged him, (the mighty Belthazor had begged!), for him to return the body. To take him instead, but to please give her back.   
  
He should've known better.   
  
Should've known better than to ask the Source of all Evil to have mercy. The Source had just laughed mockingly, his voice crossing the realms that separated them, and reaching his ears.   
  
"No".   
  
He had fought the tendrils of consciousness making their way into his brain. Fought to try and stay asleep, so he could somehow bring her back... he needed her, needed to bury her, needed to show her his last respects.   
  
The Source had just smiled wickedly, and threw a fireball at her body.   
  
His scream had woken up the entire manor, when her beautiful features were dissolved into dust.   
  
He shook his head, freeing it from the cobwebs of memories. Scouting for a demon was not a good time to get reminiscent.   
  
"There".   
  
Paige's whisper was barely audible to his demonic hearing. He looked to his right, and spotted a dark shadow that was somehow darker than the others... Mortor.   
  
Body snatcher and energy drainer, said the Book of Shadows.   
  
Dust, said Cole.   
  
He turned quickly, and threw a high power energy ball at him... Mortor never saw it coming. He had been too busy ogling the beautiful mortal that walked by his side. Pity he would never know he had been ogling a Charmed One.   
  
As the demon exploded into dust, Cole's strong body protected Paige from the blast.   
  
She yelped from underneath him, and slapped him in the shoulders.   
  
"If you wanted to cop a feel, all you had to do was ask".   
  
The words rolled off her mouth without her noticing. It was just normal for her, to answer to a male's physical contact with a witty comeback.   
  
It was too late when she realized Cole was no ordinary male. But the words had been said, and she cringed, expecting a sudden outburst, or uncomfortable silence.   
  
Neither came.   
  
She looked up at him, his features lighted by a distant street light.   
  
And in them, she saw a ghost of a smile.   
  
She smiled back at him, and tugged him on the arm, never quite comfortable with him. Actually, it wasn't *him* she was nervous about... it was what he had someday been. A cold-blooded killer, and a demon to top it off.   
  
Piper had bombarded her brain with 'demons bad, witches pretty' instructions since day one. And Cole just didn't fit into that scheme. And it upset her, the fact that she couldn't categorize him.   
  
But the last few weeks had showed her a different side of Belthazor.   
  
One that did not appear in the Book of Shadows.   
  
A caring, loving man, (he had not morphed into his demon self for a while now, and Paige was pretty much more than okay with that), who had saved her life several times now.   
  
A man who had really left his past behind, and was willing and able to make amends.   
  
Besides, he was cute.   
  
As they walked back to the main street, neither of them realized this was a pivotal moment for them. For *all* of them.   
  
Because it was then that Cole stopped drowning in self-pity, and began a speedy way back into recovery.   
  
When you recover the ability to smile, you're only one step away from normality.   
  
  
**************************  
  
  
She groaned, as her body slumped against a wall, sweat matting her forehead, and a frown clouding her beautiful face. She was five months along now, and Prue wasn't getting any lighter. Her belly was prominent these days, making it hard to move around as she wished.   
  
Thank God the nausea was gone--- she had heard frightening stories about morning sickness, and she didn't want to deal with it any more. The firet few weeks had been more than enough.   
  
What she *did* want, though, was to blast a particular she-demon into whatever hell they came out of. Because once again, Jhiera was on her.   
  
Why did she find her so damn amusing, was beyond Phoebe's comprehension.   
  
But the female demon had taken it upon herself to make her stay down here as uncomfortable as possible. Ever since the rumor had spread, that the Source had turned one of the Charmed Ones, and had taken her under his protection, the Demon World had been a buzz.   
  
All the upper class demons rebelled against the very idea of having her down here. When the first three of them who dared question his actions were killed without an afterthought, they re-thought their approach.   
  
"Morning sickness, dear?".   
  
Phoebe bit back the urge to spit in Jhiera's face.   
  
"None of your business, 'darling'".  
  
She stressed the pet name, putting all her hate towards the beautiful demon in that simple word.   
  
"Oh but it is, my dear. Belthazor and I were very close once".   
  
His name was still like a thorn in her side. It haunted her through the empty corridors, echoing in the walls, whispered in her ear by invisible ghosts she did not want to listen to.   
  
"And?".   
  
She tried to remain nonchalant, tried to hide her feelings behind a mask of casualness.   
  
"More than close. We were intimate. For over a decade, we shared beds, bodies and breath".   
  
She knew this was going to happen. She knew the taunts would come, the mocking... come to think of it, it was a lot like high school. And she was the teacher's favorite.   
  
You do the math.   
  
But Phoebe had a temper herself. She could defend herself better than most people could... roughened by her life in New York, and three years as a Witch.   
  
"This should matter to me, because...?".   
  
Jhiera moved faster than she had ever seen her, and had her by the throat in a blink. Her long, claw-like fingers scratched the delicate flesh of her neck, squeezing the air out of her lungs. Phoebe gasped and wheezed, and clawed at Jhiera's arm, trying to break free.   
  
"It's his brat you carry, is it not?. I should kill you were you stand".   
  
Oh, so this was all a case of ex-girlfriend jealousy. That she could handle.   
  
"Let. Me. Go".   
  
Jhiera's purple eyes shone in the darkness, with a light of their own.   
  
"Make me. I will kill you, Witch. Dispose of your body into the pits of Hell, and He will never know".  
  
Phoebe knew who *He* was. And she also knew He was the reason why Jhiera didn't just go ahead and do what she threatened to. He had promised slow ad painful death to anyone who dared attack his newest addition.   
  
He hadn't said anything about maiming, though.   
  
And demons took warnings by the word.   
  
She had had to fight off more demons than she could remember. It was dangerous for her to be walking around the Underworld alone, and unprotected. But she needed to.   
  
Needed to feel the adrenaline running through her body, needed to feel the powers gathering in her hands, needed to feel *alive*--- she craved the danger, and taunted death, addicted to the thrill of walking around when she knew many of the ones she crossed paths with could kill her in a second.   
  
"My--- name-- is Phax".   
  
Jhiera ignored her attempts at freedom, and just squeezed harder.   
  
Gods, if only she could get one gulp of air, and she could summon a fireball... she wasn't strong enough to kill her yet, but it would probably distract her long enough for Phoebe to run.   
  
Blackness began creeping into her line of sight, oozing from the edges and into the inside.   
  
There was only one thought running through her mind;   
  
{prue}  
  
Jhiera gasped loudly, and blinked away.   
  
Phoebe slumped onto the ground, her own hand flying to her neck, trying to assess the injuries.   
  
As she gasped and heaved, her body demanding oxygen, the Source's personal guard came around the corner. And she understood why Jhiera had teleported away.   
  
Sure, she hated Phoebe. But she didn't hate her enough to die for her.   
  
"He wants to see you. Now".   
  
She nodded, trying to rise from the ground, not quite making it. Her heart beat thundered in her chest, and her lungs burnt at the sudden burst of air.   
  
As she slowly made her way through the empty corridors, following the bodyguard's silent back, she vowed to herself that she would be stronger.   
  
She vowed that no other would ever lay a hand on her.   
  
What use would she be, if common demons like Jhiera could defeat her so easily?. She needed to be strong, powerful, and deadly--- because when she faced Cole, her body and her mind would need to be as cold as ice, and unyielding like stone.   
  
  
****************************  
  
  
When Piper was twelve, she had a garden gnome.   
  
It was small, and cute, and very well designed, at least to her inexperienced young eyes.   
Educated people barely looked at it, deeming it unworthy of their attention.   
  
But she liked it anyway, and named it Mr. Pointy Hat.   
  
Because it had the cutest hat you would ever see on a garden gnome. Red, and shiny, and pointy and a little to the side, as if telling whoever could be watching that the head under it was a real roller coaster.   
  
Piper loved that garden gnome.   
  
She really did.   
  
She cleaned it every Sunday, sweeping the dead leaves away from it, polishing it with a wet cloth, and singing it songs that stuck in her head.   
  
They were good friends, she and Mr. Pointy Hat.   
  
Until Prue had ran it over with Gram's car.   
  
Mr. Pointy Hat was reduced to pieces. Plaster pebbles, spread over the front yard. She hadn't spoken to Prue for weeks after that. She had tried to put it back together, using all the kind of glues her mind could fathom... but the result was never perfect.   
  
His features were marred, scars running up and down his body. She had fought, trying to keep him, trying to mend him... but she learned some things were not meant to last.   
  
But she still cried the day the garbage truck took it away.  
  
She felt like Mr. Pointy Hat right now.   
  
Broken. Bleeding. Finished.   
  
And yet, still fighting.   
  
Still trying to make sense of a world that is not meant to be understood.   
  
"We need to know what's going on down there".   
  
It was the second time Piper had said those words. And just like the first, all the answers she got were empty stares, and questioning eyebrows.   
  
"You know Cole is no longer welcome. If he shimmers down there, he will surely be killed. Remember what happened last time?".  
  
Piper could understand that. She also understood Cole was being hunted down now more than ever, the reward on his head growing bigger with each day that went by.   
  
But she really needed to know what the Source was up to.   
  
There had been no more attacks, no more surprise hit-men trying to get them. And it worried her. Since Prue's departure, she had taken it upon herself to protect her family. And Cole had become a member of that family.   
  
But, God, she was worried!.   
  
The last demon they had vanquished, while flames licked his body, and ate away his flesh, had screamed something that still rang in her ears. And the worst thing was, it rang true.   
  
"Your time is coming, witches. She will kill you".   
  
She had absolutely no idea who *she* could be. And that instinct she had developed throughout her life as a Charmed One, was warning her against pursuing for information any further.   
  
But ever since Cole had told them the Source had been the one to take her younger sister from her, she was on her own personal crusade to vanquish his sorry ass.   
  
"Leo, couldn't you try and orb up there?".   
  
She knew both sides kept track of each other. What Evil knew, Good found out. What Good tried to hide, Evil discovered. It had been working that way for millennia, and it had been a pain to her. She still resented Cole a bit for blowing the cover on her rutabaga.   
  
Besides, there was another thing nagging her. She and Paige had the certainty they were being watched. Spied on.   
  
Cole had tried sensing a demon in the manor, but to no avail.   
  
But it felt right, since it wasn't a presence what alerted their senses; more like--- eyes.   
  
Eyes on every room, on every corner, watching, waiting, listening...  
  
"Honey, you know I can't. They won't let me".   
  
For the first time in years, Piper did not feel safe. Not even in the Manor. Not even in the house she had grown up in, and planned to live her life in.   
  
At night, when the manor was quiet, and Leo lay sleeping by her side, she lay awake, listening, and wondering if the creaks and bumps in the house were something other than wood settling and old pipes moaning.   
  
"Demons lie, Piper. Maybe what he said wasn't true".   
  
They had said that once. Come to think of it, *she* had said that once. Well, the essence (Terra, she thought was her name) possessing her body had, at least. And they had accepted that, and she had died because of it. It was an experience she did not want to repeat.   
  
"Still---".   
  
"I could go down there and see if I can find anything".   
  
Cole was seated on the sofa, his body tired and weary, both from physical and mental exhaustion. The past few months had taken their toll on him. But he was slowly recovering, walking through the proverbial valley of shadows, and seeing as the horizon cleared, and a soft, hesitant sun shone through.   
  
"No. You'll stay right where you are, mister".   
  
Paige's remark was loud and clear, around the usually silent room. Come to think of it, ever since Phoebe's death, they had begun talking in whispers. Quiet, hushed--- as if afraid to disturb the air around them.   
  
And she was sick of it.   
  
She wasn't a mourning person.   
  
Sure, she missed Phoebe, missed her like she hadn't missed anyone in her life--- but she knew to lay waiting for death to strike again was not the solution. She had been wanting to kick some serious butt for the past few weeks.  
  
Something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. From her place by the fireplace, Piper was gesturing at her, waving her hands about, while trying to keep Leo from looking at her.   
  
Paige got the message.   
  
Ever since the day Leo had come back from 'up there', bringing the news of Phoebe's demise, she had watched as Piper pushed him away, and then called him back. But she had also watched, with some apprehension, as she and Cole drifted closer.   
  
Pain calls for pain.   
  
And those two were like magnets to each other.   
  
Not in a romantic way, but more in the terms of partners in disgrace.   
  
And she understood that. Once the natural protectiveness of a sister had blown over, she realized Cole was no longer a danger, but a powerful ally, and a trusted friend.   
  
"Leo, I was wondering, maybe we should start working on my healing abilities. You know, in case we can't have you around".   
  
It was a lame excuse, and Leo was no fool.   
  
He knew Piper needed some time alone with Cole, to try and convince him to stop the suicide mission he was so set on carrying on.   
  
So, he simply nodded, and led Paige out, after blowing a kiss to his wife, and slapping Cole on the shoulder.   
  
  
********************************  
  
  
They remained in silence, not quite looking at each other, and yet still, so very aware of the other's presence in the living room.   
  
They had never really talked about what had happened in Phoebe's room.   
  
Piper didn't quite remember it, the pain still clouding her memories of the first days after her death. But what she did remember, was that Cole had been there for her.   
  
And that there were some unresolved issues between then, that if not dealt with now, would grow slowly, mounting off into something they did not want.   
  
But she wasn't ready yet. It would be too blunt to bring it up like that, out of the blue.   
  
"You know I won't let you go".   
  
Her eyes were fixed on the window, watching absently as the soft breeze blew the curtains back and forth, and the pale winter sun shone through the open glass.   
  
"I know".   
  
He did not move. His body slouched over the couch, as if carelessly thrown there--- and yet, to Piper's trained eyes, the latent power laying behind the closed features and half open eyes was as clear as water.   
  
"Then why do you insist?".   
  
She turned, needing to see his expression, knowing his eyes would say what his lips would not.   
  
"Because I have to".   
  
She sighed, and ran a nervous hand through her long ponytail.   
  
"No you don't".   
  
That got her a reaction. His eyes snapped open, and drew her in, the fiery depths of blue burning her even from across the room.  
  
"Yes I do".   
  
She remained rooted on the spot, caught like a deer under the light of the oncoming train, unable to look away, unable to move--  
  
"I promised her".   
  
And many things made sense, because Piper suddenly understood the driving force behind his almost fatherly concern. She had to force herself to breathe, consciously tell her lungs to expand, because the weight of memories came like a flood.   
  
Prue had always looked after then. Prue had kept them safe.   
  
She sometimes forgot Phoebe worried too. And even more so, after becoming evil for the third time in a row. And the idea that Phoebe had seen this coming, had known Cole would outlive her, and took the safekeeping of her family into her own, young hands, suddenly became too much.   
  
Her eyes welled up, as they hadn't done in months, because her little sister, her little baby sister--- God, it still hurt.   
  
She covered her face with her hands, trying to keep the sobbing from rocking her thin frame. Over the past few months, this ordeal had taken its toll on her, weakening her physically.   
  
"Why?. Why did she have to die?'".   
  
Only when she felt his warmth radiating from his body, did she realize he had approached her. And his strong arms were around her once again, and deja vu washed all over her, and she let the tears out, and slammed her fists against his chest, as angry as she was sad.   
  
"I can't answer that".   
  
Her crying did not last long. She had few tears left, and they dried out quite quickly. She remained there, though, within his arms, breathing heavily.   
  
Silence settled upon the room, as Witch and Demon brought down their carefully built walls, and shared the pain of loosing a loved one. Because they each had loved her, in different ways, with different intensity--- but loved her still.   
  
As a sister.   
  
As a soulmate.   
  
As the wonderful person she had been, and how much the world had lost when she died.   
  
"Piper--- do you-- do you remember what happened that day?".  
  
Cole's voice trembled slightly, the feeling of loss fresh and anew, as if it had happened only yesterday.   
  
She took her time to answer that. Well, she didn't remember a specific event... more like feelings, of confusion, and mixing and doubt, and pain, above them all, pain.   
  
"Just--- flashes".   
  
He sighed loudly, his chest rising and falling under her cheek.   
  
"Because I--- I want you to know--- I do not regret it".   
  
Piper looked up at him, and stared deep into his eyes. Swam through the clouds of disarray, through the layers of steel will, and really *looked*---  
  
And it all came back to her, like a dream, like a long lost memory, rising through her own confusion, trough her own pain--- it came out in a rush, and she panted at the sheer force of remembrance.   
  
She remembered his lips, strong and passionate, above her own. She remembered his powerful body next to hers, keeping her close, keeping her near. She remembered his scent, around her, inside her; she remembered kissing him.   
  
A faint blush crept on her cheeks, as she realized she had just remembered her first and only slip on her marriage to Leo.   
  
But had it really being cheating?. She had been thinking about him the whole time--- had tried to feel Leo's skin under her fingers, Leo's lips under her own, Leo's support holding her up...   
  
"I don't regret it either".   
  
It had been a mistake. No, scratch that. It hadn't been a mistake. It had just been a moment, and instant in between two people who were hurting beyond belief. And she knew she had needed it, as much as he had.   
  
"But--- I still love Ph--- I still love *her*".   
  
She smiled, slowly, and tenderly caressed his chin.   
  
"I know. And I still love him".   
  
His eyes seemed to clear out, the weight of the secret he had been carrying around for months, finally out.   
  
It was then that they finally became a family. When all feelings were sorted out, and all secrets were exposed, then the last of the barriers keeping them apart fell down, and allowed them to come together.   
  
Cole looked at her, at Piper, the woman he had grown to like a sister. A sister. Funny, he had never had a sister. And here he was, with two sisters and a brother. He smiled at the thought.   
  
Family.   
  
Paige had given him back his ability to smile. Had made him realize the world kept on spinning, and that there were still things worth living for. Leo had healed his soul, as well as his body, with his soft words, and healing abilities. And Piper, Piper had somehow filled the hole in his heart, becoming a sister to him, and so much more.   
  
"Thank you for being here for me".   
  
Her words were soft, in a tone that spoke of companionship and understanding.   
  
"Thank you for having me".   
  
Even as he spoke the words, he knew they were the right ones to say. But, at the same time, they felt wrong. As if somehow, Piper was not the one they were meant for. But there was no one else in the room--- and the one other woman he would've said them to, lay dead, her ashes scattered in the wind, her soul resting in Heaven.   
  
He shrugged the feeling off, but it kept coming back, stronger than before---  
  
Something was amiss...  
  
"We should go get them".   
  
Her words broke the spell, and the feeling returned to the depths of his mind, where it would rest, waiting for the proper moment to re-emerge.   
  
"Yeah, we should. Leo's probably thinking I'm having an affair with you".   
  
They both grinned at that, and they broke apart.   
  
And still, in an intangible, invisible sort of way, they stayed together.   
  
Linked.   
  
Powerful.   
  
  
  
'United we stand, divided we fall'  
  
  
  
  
*********************************  
  
  
Tbc...  
  
  
Okay, for anyone wondering, those were the words Cole and Phoebe exchanged in 'Muse to My Ears;, after they vanquish Devlin. I found them so meaningful, I just *had* to put them here.   
  
I hope you liked.   
  
Tell me what you think!. 


	7. Birth...

** Change of Heart **, chapter 7: Birth...  
  
by Lilian  
  
lilian413@yahoo.com  
  
AN: So, I guess all of you know what's happening in this chapter, right?. Guess again, dear readers. Mine is an evil mind... :p  
  
To all my wonderful reviewers: I think I'm becoming addicted to your words... I think I'm the happiest fanfic writer in the world, for having you as my amazing readers. And keep reviewing, because I read each and every one of them. Several times.   
  
And then my Muse get all egomaniac, and decides to inspire me some more. :p  
  
AN2: Warning. This chapter made me cry while I wrote it. That was a first. i'll give it an 'R', just to be safe, okay?  
  
AN3: okay, before you go any further. You've heard the news, right?. Julian will be written off 'Charmed', unless we do something about it. So, get your finger clicking, and go to www.thecharmedones.com, and find out what you can do prevent this catastrophe!. Write a letter. Send an email. Sign the petition. Julian MUST stay!.   
  
Go, what are you waiting for?.   
  
Did it?. Cool, now you can read on.   
  
  
  
********************************  
  
  
"Here these words.   
Hear my cry, spirit from the other side.   
Come to me, I summon thee.   
Cross now the Great Divide."   
  
As wind began blowing through the attic, Paige tried again.   
  
"Piper, don't you think we're overreacting a little?".   
  
The Eldest Halliwell kept on tapping her foot on the ground, waiting impatiently for the orbing lights to solidify into one of four familiar frames.   
  
"No, we're not. It was real, Paige, I'm telling you".   
  
Paige sighed loudly, and walked to her, trying to draw her into a comforting hug.   
  
"Honey, it was just a nightmare".   
  
Piper turned to look at her younger sister, and uttered three simple words, that she knew to be true.   
  
"No, it wasn't".   
  
They were all still in their pajamas, well, except for Cole of course, who as far as Paige was concerned, never slept. She swore she had never seen him closing his eyes and just--- relaxing... not for a long time. And besides, appearing in the attic in his PJ's would break the glamour of shimmering in.   
  
Leo had no problem with that, though. His tousled hair, and sleepy eyes talked of sudden awakening, as Piper had bolted up in bed, whispering something about a lost soul and a broken promise, and ran upstairs.   
  
He leaned against a wall, behind Piper, fighting off the last tendrils of sleep, as Penny Halliwell's form appeared in the middle of the candle circle.   
  
"My darlings".   
  
Penelope had always had a deep voice, which brought memories of cooking lessons and bedtime stories for Piper, and a hint of jealousy to Paige, who had never known her grandmother, until she was dead and buried for a couple of years.   
  
"Why didn't you come when I called you before?".   
  
Piper's voice was accusing and demanding an answer. When Phoebe had first disappeared, she had tried to contact someone, anyone from up there-- to no avail. It was as if the connection had been broken, and their call was interrupted before it reached Heaven.   
  
"They wouldn't let me".   
  
Cole rose from his position by the farthest wall, and approached the hovering form of the powerful Witch.   
  
"Why now?".   
  
Penny looked at him, and even as ghost, had to fight the urge to cringe under his unyielding gaze. She had been watching from above, weeping on the inside, because her girls, her beautiful girls, were in pain, and there was nothing she could do to help them.   
  
"Because they screwed up".   
  
It hurt to admit she had let it happen. Not that there was much they could do about it, but she and Patty had been watching, and preparing to welcome Phoebe's soul into the afterlife--- except that she never came.   
  
"Then it's true".   
  
Piper's whisper was quiet, yet it still thundered across the room, disturbing decades of dust settling on old furniture.   
  
"Yes".   
  
She had to close her eyes, as she fought back the bile rising in her throat. Gods, she had been praying it was a nightmare!.   
  
When she had dreamt about Phoebe, about her little baby sister, dead and still suffering in the Underworld, she had woken up sweating, a lump in her throat, and a quiet voice in her head, whispering to her it wasn't a nightmare.   
  
It was the truth.   
  
It had been exactly seven months, two weeks and four days since Phoebe had died. And if she concentrated hard enough, she could remember the number of hours too.   
  
But also, for a long time now, she had not had any more nightmares.   
  
It had seemed things were slowly, *very* slowly, going back to normal. As normal as they could ever get, with two deaths hanging over her head, as the proverbial Damocles sword.   
  
But then, tonight--- she had blamed it on the late night snakcs. Too many tacos and so late--- but it seemed it wasn't just food indigestion.   
  
It was the sisterly bond, still at work, telling her Phoebe was not resting in peace.  
  
A sudden explosion rocked the entire house, and a gush of wind blew right past them. She did not need to open her eyes to realize Cole had just thrown an energy ball at the wall.   
  
She could relate.   
  
Anger was a very hard feeling to deal with--- it consumes you, eating you up from the inside, accumulating, growing... until it just explodes.   
  
The problem was, in her and Cole's case, it exploded literally.   
  
She kept her hands tight against her hips, fighting back the urge to blast something, (anything!).   
  
"Damn him!. It was him, wasn't it?".  
  
Penny just nodded slowly, wishing she had corporeal substance so she could cry along with her children.   
  
"They said her soul got trapped in the Underworld. That there's no way to bring her back, except killing the Source".   
  
Cole's form began shimmering, as he prepared himself for one last trip below, to kill the Source of all his pain. It would be the last thing he would ever do, because he *knew* the Source would be expecting him.   
  
Paige's hand on his arm, and Penny's cry of 'wait!' kept him from fully teleporting.   
  
"What?".   
  
"You can't go".   
  
His eyes flared up in anger, and there was bitterness in his voice as he spoke.   
  
"Watch me".   
  
Before he could shimmer away though, Paige tugged on his arm hard, and forced him to stay put. He only stopped because he knew that if he carried it through, he would take Paige with him, and he could not risk loosing another one of them.   
  
"Cole, there is something you don't know yet".   
  
"What is it?".   
  
He was like a springboard--- taut, and just waiting for the weight that would break the balance, and send him into an adrenaline-induced frenzy.   
  
His Phoebe, his beloved, was still in the hands of the Demon. Was still suffering, still in pain--- he wasn't sure what hurt the most. The idea than even in death she could not find the peace she so longed for, or the fact that he had been oblivious to all of this.   
  
The fact that he had tried to carry on with his life, without making sure she was well. Without making sure she was in Heaven, getting the rest she so deserved.   
  
{Phoebe...}  
  
So stupid. How could he have been so stupid!. He should've known He wouldn't let her go that easily. Should've known the Source would get his revenge in spades. Should've anticipated this--- God, if he had been smart enough, she would have never died in the first place!.   
  
He bit back the urge to slam his head against the wall. Maiming would be of no good now... he needed to come up with a plan to save her. Then, he could go on and kill himself.   
  
*After* she was all right.   
  
"There's a great disturbance coming. A commotion of magical forces, that have been gathering for some months now. It's going to go off at midnight--- and if it does while you're still down there, you will trapped, with no way out".   
  
He gritted his teeth, fighting the feelings running rampant through his body. On one side, was the uncontrollable urge to just get it over with, shimmer down there, slit that bastard's throat and free his lover's soul. But then, who would protect her sisters?. Who would protect the family he had come to call his own in the past months?.   
  
He would break his promise--- again.   
  
"Fine. The second it blows away, I'm off".   
  
Penny Halliwell only nodded, her heart telling her that Cole would have his mind on other things after midnight came.   
  
It was a drag, knowing all of this, and not being able to tell them anything. Knowing how much they still had to suffer, how much they still had to endure--- and to keep it all to herself.   
  
But she knew better than to speak up.   
  
She understood why it had to happen. Realized that this was the only way their destinies could be fulfilled--- but it was such a great price to pay.   
  
A price she wasn't sure her children were *ready* to pay.   
  
  
  
*******************************************  
  
  
  
She hadn't expected it to happen so soon.   
  
She was only eight and a half months along. There were still two more weeks to go, according to her calculations. Fourteen days, time that she desperately needed, desperately wanted--- still so many things she needed to sort out--- but Prue was coming.   
  
And Phoebe felt it with every fiber of her being.   
  
Even after the Source had bound her premonitions, locking them up inside of her, telling her they were draining her dry, and would eventually kill her, she still retained some control over them.   
  
She didn't get flashes anymore, but she could still feel when certain things were going to happen.   
  
Not that she needed to be a Seer to realize what was going on right now, but still.   
  
She was going into labor.   
  
And she still had no clue, as to how to protect her little baby.   
  
She gasped loudly, and clung onto the wall, trying to support herself up.   
  
Gods, it hurt!.   
  
Sweat ran down her forehead, as contractions rippled through her body, and immersed her in a world of pain.   
  
{Not now, not yet...}  
  
But, unyielding, little Prue kept pushing, impatient, restless--- she was coming out, whether her mother was ready or not.   
  
She thanked whatever deity was watching down on her, that she had remained in her quarters today.   
Usually, demons hung out up on the Surface, disguised under mortal masks and mortal money. But she knew the Source did not trust her enough to let her roam free on the world of the living.   
  
Not yet, anyway.  
  
So, she had stay down under, living in the shadows, missing the caress of the sun, and the soft spring breezes... it was probably summer in San Francisco, though.   
  
She ground her teeth together, keeping the scream inside her throat.   
  
She needed to be quiet, needed to be silent--- one cry out of her lips, and the Source would be onto her, and then all hope would be lost.   
  
{Prue, please!}  
  
The baby inside of her ignored her pleas, having made up her mind about coming out.   
  
A particularly painful contraction hit her, and she slumped forward, doubling over, incapable of holding herself up.   
  
God, the baby inside of her was a quarter demon, and she was showing it to the world!.   
  
Stumbling, she made her way to the bed, and lay down on it, breathing heavily.   
  
Her eyes glazed and lost, fixed on the ceiling above her, suddenly realizing maybe this would be too much for her.   
  
She had never had a baby before, for crying out loud, and here she was, trapped in Hell, without any medical assistance whatsoever, and having one!.   
  
She knew she could call someone--- anyone, and they would come. And they would help her--- but she couldn't do that. She would not let them take Prue. And for that, she would have to handle this alone.   
  
The room tilted, and red spots danced in her vision, as a sizzling pain ran from her belly and into her limbs.   
  
Gods, she was coming fast!.   
  
She lay down on her back, trying to keep her upper chest raised--- what was she supposed to do?. She wasn't ready for this!. There were supposed to be doctors and nurses, and her mother, telling her what to do. Telling her to breathe deeply and evenly, to do what she had practiced in whatshisname's class---  
  
Damn it!.   
  
Her hands tightened into fists, grabbing handfuls of sheets into them. Luckily, she had just changed into her nightgowns, and her legs opened up on their own accord. Maybe her mind wasn't ready for this--- but females had been giving birth for thousands of years, before medicine and painkillers came along.   
  
And Phoebe's soul was old, and had done this a million times before.   
  
And it was getting ready to do it one more time.   
  
She closed her eyes, trying to block everything out, to stop the tears from coming, and clouding her vision even more.   
  
But it was useless.   
  
The tears came, and she cried. She cried for her baby daughter, who would come to the world in Hell, and would surely be corrupted the second she opened her eyes. She cried for herself, because what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, was turning out to be a disaster.   
  
{Mommy}  
  
She cried for her mother, who would never see her granddaughter. She cried because she needed her, and she wasn't there. She cried because she needed support, and there was no one around to give it to her.   
  
Her sobs echoed around the chamber, resounding on the walls, and coming back at her, mocking her, laughing at her---  
  
'You were always such a screw-up, Phoebe'  
  
Damn it!. Where were they when she needed them?. Where were they now, when she was going to bleed to death, limp in a bed, and her daughter would be taken, and turned by Evil?.   
  
Probably smooching some more, making out in her old bedroom, violating the sanctity of what she had always called hers'. Gods, how she hated them!.   
  
Hated them with a passion so big, and a fire so high, it threatened to consume her, from the inside out.   
  
{I gave you everything--- and you broke my heart with a smile in your face}.  
  
She bit her lip to avoid screaming. The contractions were coming closer now... and from movies and magazines, she knew that meant the time was coming.   
  
"I hate you!".   
  
Her voice shook with agony, and as she tasted her own blood, rich and sweet and polluted, she felt more tears run down her cheeks.   
  
She refused to say his name. To say it, would mean she acknowledged his existence, that she accepted the fact he had gotten her pregnant, and then screwed her older sister. To say it would bring back memories she would rather forget, because they represented everything she hated, everything she despised, and loads and loads of pain that just waited to pounce on her.   
  
A lie.   
  
It had all been a lie.   
  
She cried softly, the sound keen and sharp, as she felt wetness seeping between her legs.   
  
Her water must've broke.   
  
She dared not look down. She did not want to see the blood pouring off her thighs, and staining the black sheets with its red tint.   
  
Gods, she needed to push!. Wanted it all to be over--- and at the same time, needed it to stretch   
on forever. Because if Prue was born, then all of her hopes would be over.   
  
She was breathing rapidly, her breath coming in heavy pants, and her whole body was taut and vibrating, preparing, adjusting for the moment of birth.   
  
And she didn't know what to do, and cried once again, because maybe she wasn't going to make it. And if she died now, so would her little baby. Her little baby, who was now ripping her insides out, trying to come into a world that awaited her impatiently.   
  
{now}  
  
She never knew if the voice in her head was real. Never knew who had spoken so softly in the back of her mind, she had almost missed it.   
  
And she never asked really, because she also knew it was time.   
  
Taking a deep breath, she gathered her energy, and pushed.   
  
And things seemed to slow down, and everything turned fuzzy, and she felt detached, and incorporeal, and just--- not there.  
  
It seemed it was someone else who was giving birth. Strength that was not her own empowered her, spreading all over her tired body, and giving it the last ounce of energy it needed.   
  
There was no more pain, and everything was just so *slow*, and seconds seemed to roll by, lazy, and indolent, passing her by almost as an afterthought...  
  
And it suddenly all came back in a rush, as if making up for the lost time.   
  
And she cried out, screaming, as Prudence Halliwell came into the world.   
  
  
  
***********************************  
  
  
  
"Did you feel that?".   
  
Still up in the attic, just by the strike of midnight, Cole's head snapped up, as a distant cry pierced his ears.   
  
"What?".   
  
As the old pendulum clock downstairs began it's slow count up to the twelve hour, Cole heard it again.   
  
"That".   
  
Paige squinted her eyes, and she tried to listen. Cole's demonic hearing was far more developed than theirs was, but she tried her best to make out what had caused him to snap out of his self-induced trance.   
  
"I don't hear anything".   
  
Leo and Piper nodded slowly, neither of them hearing anything either.   
  
"It was like--- a baby crying".   
  
He walked a few steps, but the sound was coming from nowhere in particular--- except from his own mind.   
  
"You sure?".   
  
And as quickly as it had come, it stopped. And Cole questioned his sanity, because he realized the noise had indeed come from inside his head. It explained why none of the others seemed to hear it.   
  
"Not really".   
  
He tried to concentrate, expanding his senses, trying to find the source of the wailing... but it was as if it had never been there in the first place. There were no traces of magic in the air, except for the sisters' aura that seemed to ooze around the manor twenty-four/seven.   
  
As they carried on the conversation, about how to vanquish the Source once and for all, in order to save Phoebe's soul, Cole kept thinking about it.   
  
Something was telling him this would not be the last time he heard it.   
  
  
**************************  
  
  
Phoebe hadn't realized her eyes were closed until she had to force herself to open them.   
  
Slowly, hesitantly, she let her eyelids rise, afraid of what she may see.   
  
The pain was lessening, changing into a dull ache of over-stressed muscles. She felt as if she had just run the San Francisco Spring Marathon--- exhausted.   
  
Only one look between her legs, and her fatigue disappeared as if by magic.   
  
{prue}  
  
She was small, she was so small...  
  
Her trembling hands picked her up, and tenderly held her close.   
  
Strangely, the baby was quiet.   
  
But her eyes were open, and stared at her questioningly, curious and sleepy at the same time.   
  
She knew this was not normal behavior for a newborn--- but she couldn't care less.   
  
Her little baby was here. Prue was here.   
  
She cooed at her, softly rubbing their noses together.   
  
Prue answered with a giggle, so pure, so innocent, it brought tears to Phoebe's eyes.   
  
Her finger gently traced the curve of her perfect cheeks, and Prue seemed to lean into her touch. She was so beautiful--- she was the most beautiful thing Phoebe had ever seen.   
  
She was perfect.   
  
Her tiny hands, curled into even tinier fists, seemed to lurch around, in sudden moves that spoke of undeveloped motor skills. But her eyes--- her eyes were the purest of blues Phoebe had ever seen.   
  
Cobalt blue, came to her mind, when she tried to find a proper word to describe them.   
  
There was a soft mop of newborn hair on her tiny head. It was brown, dark brown... but she had read somewhere all babies were born with dark hair.   
  
"Hi there, little one".   
  
Prue gurgled at her words, and giggled again. And Phoebe felt her heart melting, and happiness like she had never known before fill her heart.   
  
"Prue. That's your name, precious. Prue".   
  
The baby blinked at her, her pupils never once looking away. It was as if she was memorizing her features...   
  
Feeling as her tissue reconstituted itself, the healing abilities kicking in, she moved around in the bed, feeling the sticky sheets clinging to her skin. Sticky sheets, stained with her blood. With her life.   
  
Never once putting Prue down, she slowly stood up, her legs aching and wobbling under her. But she needed to move.   
  
She needed to clean her up.   
  
Little Prue looked around the room, her inquiring gaze taking everything in... As if she could actually understand what she was seeing.   
  
Phoebe held her close, feeling her warmth, which suddenly reminded her of *him*.   
  
They had the same kind of warmth--- welcoming, enveloping, rich--- she shook her head, fighting the memories, keeping them at bay.   
  
She needed to move fast.   
  
Picking up one of the pillows, she took off the pillowcase, and carried it with her.   
  
Still wobbly, she approached a small fountain that ran on the corner of the chamber. She had drunk from it before--- it was clean, and the only means she had to clean her little daughter with.   
  
Slowly, with as much care as if she was cleaning the most precious thing in the world, she cleaned her. And the waters ran red, as Prue's skin arose from the blood and placenta that still covered her.   
  
All along, the baby gurgled, her first contact with water pleasant and welcome.   
  
And all along, Phoebe cried.   
  
When the pillowcase was lost beyond recognition, and Prue was clean and done, she sank back against the wall, taking her baby with her.   
  
And she rocked her back and forth, singing an old lullaby, she remembered back when she was little, and Grams used to tuck her in. Before her life took a downturn and everything turned into a mess.   
  
Gods, she was so tired... so, so tired. Her eyes closed and opened, over and over again, as she fought sleep away. She could not sleep. She could not rest.   
  
Not until she was sure Prue was safe.   
  
But how?. How could she protect her little daughter, in a place so evil, so dark, even to breathe was difficult?.   
  
She held her against her heart, and by instinct born of a thousand lives, little Prue latched onto her breast, and greedily began feeding. And seeing her there, cradled against her breast, drinking from her own milk, as if she was not in Hell, but in her own home, broke Phoebe's heart.   
  
Because the only thing this baby would ever know, would be darkness. And betrayal. And pain. And torture.   
  
And she was *her's*, as no other thing could ever be.   
  
Because it was her own blood running through Prue's veins, giving her strength...  
  
"mommy".   
  
It was a silent whisper, a word she hadn't uttered in a long time.   
  
Because she knew what she had to do.   
  
Knew that she would die first, that to let her Prue be corrupted by Evil. She knew her baby daughter would not suffer under the hand of the Source, or any other demon that craved her power.   
  
She wouldn't.   
  
Not if she had anything to do with it.   
  
And the weight of responsibility settled on her weak shoulders, as she realized there was only one way out. There was only one thing she could do to keep Prue safe. To keep her pure.   
  
To keep her innocent.   
  
Kill her.   
  
A desperate sob went past the lump in her throat, as she cried again, depleted of any energy whatsoever.   
  
Oblivious to her mother's troubled thoughts, little Prue kept on suckling, hungry.   
  
"No...".  
  
She caressed her cheek, taking in the feel of her soft, baby skin, and her wide, open blue eyes, and her perfect little nose--- life. Life she had created, life that she had brought into the world.  
  
Live she would now have to terminate.   
  
How could she?. How could she even fathom the idea of killing her?. Prue was her daughter, for God's sake!!. Her *daughter*.   
  
But she knew there was no other way. If he found her, he would take her, take Prue away from her... corrupt her for his own devious purposes, killing her too. He would consume little Prue's soul, like water consumes fire, and kill her.   
  
Maybe she could spare her the suffering.   
  
Maybe she just wasn't meant to be born yet.   
  
She closed her eyes, and harshly brought her head back against the wall, biting her lip as the pain irradiated from her skull and downwards.   
  
{Good, concentrate on the pain}.   
  
How she wished to follow her, to follow her into the afterlife--- but she knew better than to try. Knew better than to try and take her life. Because her life was no longer her own. She belonged to him, mind, body and soul.   
  
And as long as he lived, she would.   
  
And the Source was immortal--- and now, so was she.   
  
And to face immortality with these kind of memories, was torture. And she knew it.   
  
But she also knew that if she allowed him to take Prue, she could not live with herself anyway.   
  
So it was the lesser of two evils--- in her mind.   
  
But her heart cried out in protest, and she swallowed loudly, trying to push the lump down. It was getting harder to breathe.   
  
"Prue...".  
  
The little baby, unaware of the tears in her mother's eyes, and the breaking of her heart, looked up at her, and smiled widely.   
  
And Phoebe realized she couldn't--- she just couldn't do it.   
  
{You will let him take her, then?}  
  
Distress made her reach up inside her soul, looking for an answer that would never come. Because there was no right or wrong in a situation like this... she could only do what she needed to.   
  
And as she turned back inside, and cried out for help, the Source's hold onto her premonitions faltered, and she was allowed one last image.   
  
  
  
{... tall, dark and beautiful, a deadly princess of Death caused mayhem in the mortal's world, becoming the most powerful assassin demons and humans had ever known. And her name was Prue, and she had Cole's eyes, and Phoebe's face, and she laughed and laughed, as she killed an innocent, twisting his neck in an odd angle...}  
  
.....  
.....  
....  
..  
.  
  
She came back to her own body gasping for breath, craving for air, desperate for help.   
  
Help that would never come, because this was her own decision to make.   
  
With the tears coming so fast and so hard, they clouded her vision and made it hard to *breathe*, she rose.   
  
{You will not get her}  
  
She had made herself that promise. She had vowed her daughter would not become evil. She had sworn on everything she held dear, that her daughter would never experience the hell she was in. And she had no other way to go.   
  
There *was* no other way to go.   
  
She softly put Prue down, nuzzling her nose one last time.   
  
She memorized her features, knowing, needing to know what her face looked like. What the face that would haunt her to her last breath looked like.   
  
And little Prue raised her small hand, and mimicked her moves, tracing Phoebe's own cheek with her small, delicate fingers.   
  
Phoebe kissed her forehead, and whispered one last word.   
  
"goodbye".  
  
She rose, and turned away.   
  
Prue remained silent, waiting on the ground in the puddle of sheets. Phoebe just wished she would cry, at least one time, to hear her voice, to remind her she was alive--- to stop her!.   
  
But she did not utter a sound.   
  
It was most obvious this baby was not human. And neither was her mother.   
  
Closing her eyes, she stretched out her right hand, and summoned a fireball.   
  
It was hard, to fight her own consciousness, which rebelled against what she was about to do. But she had a will of steel, and a heart so broken, no TLC in the world could ever mend it back together.   
  
As the chamber lit up with the small fireball that sizzled in her hand, she opened her eyes, and looked at Prue.   
  
And something in her chest broke, as she saw her daughter smiling back at her, in that intense and pristine way that only babies can.   
  
"I'm sorry".   
  
Her words echoed in the stone walls, repeating themselves so many times, they lost their meaning, and became almost like a mantra to her.   
  
And she knew she would never find forgiveness, because she would kill her first innocent today. Her own daughter would christen her as Phax.   
  
There would be no need for a sacrifice. Because what she was about to do now, qualified as the greatest sacrifice of all.   
  
She held her breath, and bit her lip, tasting her blood...  
  
And she fired the fireball.  
  
  
*********************************  
  
  
  
TBC...  
  
I'm evil, aren't I?. 


	8. Reality Twists

** Change of Heart **, chapter 8: Reality Twists  
  
by Lilian  
  
lilian413@yahoo.com  
  
AN: Told you I was evil. I think I may have the Joss Wheddon syndrome... 'make your characters as unhappy as you can, for as long as you can'.  
  
Signed the petition?. (http://www.petitiononline.com/SAVECOLE/petition.html) Just copy & paste people...  
  
Sent your emails? (charmed@talk.thewb.com)  
  
Sent snail mail? (go to www.thecharmedones.com or www.mcmahoniacs.com for more information on how can we save Cole from destruction)--- it's in our hands people, in *our* hands, to save what we care for. Make a stand!. Get your opinion out there!.   
  
SHOW THEM WE CARE!.  
  
The deadline is February the 8... we have little time, and must do so many things. Put in your two cents, and help us save Julian!.  
  
  
  
*****************************  
  
In the last chapter of 'Change of Heart';  
  
  
*****************************  
  
  
And she knew she would never find forgiveness, because she would kill her first innocent today. Her own daughter would christen her as Phax.   
  
There would be no need for a sacrifice. Because what she was about to do now, qualified as the greatest sacrifice of all.   
  
She held her breath, and bit her lip, tasting her blood...  
  
And she fired the fireball.  
  
  
  
*********************************  
  
  
  
"I'm telling you Piper, I'm going down".   
  
The discussion had been going on for about thirty minutes now, after Penny Halliwell had orbed away, and left them confused and wondering. It was half past midnight, and the argument did not seem the least bit finished.   
  
"And I'm telling you, you're *not*".   
  
The eldest Halliwell had promptly attached herself to Cole's arm, and refused to let go. Hence, Cole could not shimmer anywhere, knowing he would drag her along with him.   
  
And since he most certainly could not push her away, he was stranded in the attic.   
  
"You can't hold me here forever. The second you---".   
  
His words were cut short, as a strange feeling settled on him.   
  
Something was coming.   
  
Fast.   
  
"Paige, Leo, duck!".   
  
Out of reflex, they all did, while Cole protected Piper with his body.   
  
And just in time, as all of a sudden, a fireball appeared from nowhere, right smack in the middle of the attic, and flew past them and onto some old painting leaning against a wall.   
  
Paige's screech and instinctive orbing were forgotten, as fire began spreading through the curtains, threatening the manor's integrity.   
  
"Oh no you don't".   
  
Piper rolled out of Cole's arms, and took out the fire extinguisher that lay behind the door. She had bought one for each room of the house, after the first two incendiary attempts that had almost burnt the house down.   
  
Especially when those said pyromaniac attempts where pretty much *her* fault, practicing with her new power.   
  
"Piper, you know better than that!. There could be a demon in here!".   
  
Leo's scolding was very well founded. After all, fireballs don't just pop in unnoticed by themselves, now do they?. A hundred percent of the time, they herald the coming of a new demon, trying to destroy the Charmed Ones to win the Source's favor.   
  
"There's none".   
  
Okay, so ninety-nine percent of the times.   
  
Cole had expanded his demonic senses the second he had felt the fireball coming. And even if he *had* felt something behind it (sadnesstearspainanguish), the feeling seemed to have passed, and only the scorched remains of some old portraits attested to anything unusual happening.   
  
The attic was silent once again, as the woosh-woosh of the fire extinguisher muffled the sounds of the night, coming from the whole Cole had blown on the wall earlier.   
  
"What the hell was that?".   
  
Paige reappeared in the center of the attic, right by the Book of Shadows. Her face was somewhat shocked, still having time adjusting to having her atoms separating and reassembling somewhere else.   
  
But her statement vocalized everyone's feelings.   
  
"My thoughts exactly".   
  
Leo rose from the floor, dusting himself off. He checked on his wife, who still battled the last of the flames. She seemed all right--- but he knew better. Only eyes like his, trained to read her, could notice the shaking of her arms, and the distress in her chocolate eyes.   
  
"It shimmered in here".   
  
Paige walked over to the Book of Shadows, which once again, seemed to have survived unscathed an attempt at destruction. She flicked through it, ready to find whatever demon could teleport fireballs into people's houses.   
  
She waited for Cole's description, knowing that if anyone knew about a demon, it would be him.   
  
But Cole remained silent, his brows furrowed, his eyes scanning the room. They darted back and forth, as if unsure of what he was picking up.   
  
"So?".   
  
Her tone invited him to continue.   
  
"Something's off".   
  
That's when Piper put the fire extinguisher back in its place, and put an arm around Leo, leaning onto him for support. And she asked, her voice shaky and angry.   
  
"You mean, besides the burnt paintings, and the hole in the wall?".   
  
Cole glared at her, and she quieted down. Leo caressed her hair, smoothing down some bumps and tangles. He liked her with long hair...  
  
A gurgle echoed in the room, surprising them all.   
  
"Hey, don't look at me. Piper's the one who had tacos for dinner".   
  
Paige was silenced fairly quickly, as the sound repeated itself.   
  
Cole's finger flew to his lips, in the universal gesture for silence.   
  
The coo was coming from the old Halliwell crib. An old cot, which had held several generations of Warren's and Halliwell's, becoming their first bed, and for some unlucky babies, their last.   
  
It had been up in the attic for decades--- Phoebe being the last of its occupants.   
  
But it seemed it had just won itself a new one.   
  
Paige scoffed loudly, and walked up to the crib. A blanket covered it, probably left there to keep the dust from settling in.   
  
"Why are you guys so nervous about?. It's just a pigeon that got trapped in the---".   
  
As she spoke, her slender fingers grabbed the edge of the blanket, and promptly lifted it up. She had expected a flurry of wings battling, and feathers flying... but a sight so unexpected greeted her wide eyes, that she was left speechless.   
  
"Paige, what is it?".   
  
Cole moved quickly to her side, sure that no demon was in the vicinity. It was probably a dead animal that had scared her badly, and made her freeze in mid motion. He picked the blanket from her stiff fingers, and prepared to fling it aside, when he took a look at what lay inside.   
  
And he froze in his spot too.   
  
"Guys, you're freaking me out".   
  
Paige turned her shaky eyes to Piper, and pointed to the crib, silently.   
  
"It's a--- there's a--- we have---".   
  
Piper snorted, muttering incoherent things under her breath, and made her way up to the crib.   
  
"Paige, what have I told you abou---".   
  
She quieted in mid sentence. And her eyes opened so wide, Cole absently wondered if it didn't hurt. Leo had moved with her, and was just as speechless as everyone else.   
  
Because in the crib, looking up at them with the deepest, widest blue eyes any of them had ever seen, lay a baby.   
  
A small baby girl, with no clothing whatsoever, that giggled loudly at their shocked faces.   
  
It took only took Piper a second to snap out of the baby-trance, and for her maternal instincts to kick in.   
  
There was a baby in the house.   
  
A magical baby, most certainly, that had popped in unnoticed. A real, living, breathing baby.   
  
When Paige had brought the robo-baby into the house, Piper had rebelled against the thought. A dummy. It was a dummy. And she had treated it as such.   
  
But this--- this was a real newborn.   
  
And her eyes softened, and her hands cradled her, holding her up.   
  
The small girl did not seem to mind being picked up by strangers. She just cooed again, and her small, little fingers, grabbed hold of Piper's long bangs, and promptly began sucking on them.   
  
"Piper, maybe we shouldn't--".   
  
Leo tried to warn her against picking up magical babies. But this one--- this one seemed different. Familiar, almost. And most certainly, it did not seem evil. His whitelighter senses were quiet, and even welcoming towards the small body in Piper's arms.   
  
"Leo, look at her. How can something so beautiful be evil?".   
  
Paige's finger probed the little girl's arm, as if to make sure she was really there.   
  
"Paige, stop that!".   
  
The small girl just turned her eyes towards Paige, and looked at her questioningly. 'Yes?', they seemed to say, 'can I help you with anything?'.   
  
"Hey, just making sure we're not hallucinating!".   
  
Piper rocked the girl back and forth, singing some old lullaby she had learned from her mother. Amazingly, the baby seemed to recognize it, and clapped her hands together, gurgling all along.   
  
"Isn't she precious?".   
  
Even Paige could not help but be enthralled by the child. There was just something about her, that spoke of calm and serenity, and beauty and grace. So, she nodded, along with Leo, completely in love with her.   
  
It was then that Piper noticed Cole had not spoken.   
  
She turned to look at him, and frowned.   
  
Cole remained some steps away from them, as if afraid to approach them. His eyes were fixed on the small girl, his pupils dilated in--- fear?. Amazement?, she could not say.   
  
"Cole, are you all right?".   
  
Ever since Piper had picked the girl up from the crib, and presented it to the world, Cole had felt something. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on.   
  
It was as if somehow, he was supposed to know who this baby was, was supposed to know what her name was, who her mother was, where was she coming from--- but what struck him the most, was how much she reminded him of Phoebe.   
  
They had the same energy signature--- he couldn't quite put it into words, but she just *felt* like Phoebe.   
  
And when the small girl turned her eyes towards him, he gasped at the sheer knowledge that lay behind those blue orbs. Because a demon knew an old soul when he saw one, and this little girl held such power inside her tiny body, that he took a step backwards.   
  
The girl didn't like it. Her precious eyebrows frowned, and her small chubby arms stretched out, calling for Cole.   
  
"Awww, isn't that sweet?. She wants you to hold her".   
  
Piper had seen how Cole's face changed from one feeling to the next. And she also saw the fear when she spoke. Saw that he was afraid of her, afraid that he might hurt such a lovely creature, with his blunt hands and strong body.   
  
But she had spent a lot of time with him, lately. And she had seen how the demon turned into a tender man, who needed as much love as he gave--- that's why she approached him, and offered the girl to him.   
  
"No, Piper--- I don't--- I can't---".   
  
It would've been hilarious to see the mighty Belthazor reduced to a stammering young man, but it was the common reaction men have when confronted with the miracle of life.   
  
Respect. And little tinge of fear.   
  
Piper sshhed him with one raised eyebrow. She moved by his side, and taught him how to hold her. And he was a quick learner.   
  
The little baby giggled when she rested her cheek against his, the stub of beard scratching her soft skin. And they locked eyes, blue against blue, and Cole felt his heart melting, and his soul soaring in something akin to happiness.   
  
Seemingly satisfied with what she had seen, the baby girl burrowed comfortably in Cole's arms, and promptly fell asleep.   
  
It was a strange picture. Cole was a tall man by human standards... his frame of 6'2'' towered above the girls, and even Leo. And now, with such a small bundle in his arms---   
  
One thought made their way into Paige's, Piper's and Leo's minds.   
  
Picture Perfect.   
  
"She fell asleep".   
  
Paige's voice diminished to a whisper, as Piper glared daggers at her. Geez, one little slip and Mother Hen Piper was on her.   
  
"What do you think her name is?".   
  
They all looked at her, bundled in Cole's arms. And noticed the tall man had tears in his eyes, and would not look away from the beautiful face that rested against his chest.   
  
They could all feel she was magical. It came off her like waves, the power running through her veins.   
  
And they could all feel she wasn't evil. The Power of Good was strong in her--- stronger than they had seen in a long time.   
  
"Prue".   
  
Cole's voice came in such a whisper, at first they thought they had imagined it. But once they looked at them, so comfortable they seemed together, and once they looked at *her* the name felt right.   
  
At the sound of his voice, the baby stirred a bit, as if acknowledging her own name.   
  
Piper's eyes were filled with tears, as the memory of her older sister shone through. And little Prue did resemble the older Prue--- the fall of her eyebrows was the same. And their eyes held the same fiery strength that spoke of a stubborn will and an agile mind.   
  
Prue it was, then.   
  
And that was how the latest addition to the Halliwell family came into the manor, even if they never knew the truth of her origins. And they did not need to--- because it was from then on, that things spiraled downhill.   
  
  
  
*********************************  
  
  
  
  
She had huddled in a corner of the dark chamber, away from the few flickering candles, as much into the dark as she could get.   
  
Because she could not show her face to the world.   
  
Not after what she had done.   
  
Not ever.   
  
She rocked back and forth, silently, her eyes closed, and her lips tight, trying to become invisible, forgotten---   
  
It was useless.   
  
The numbness was slowly spreading through her, consuming her from the inside.   
  
A gaping hole lay where her heart had once been, and the last traces of humanity had been ripped off her psyche and scattered by the wind.   
  
She wasn't sure she remembered who she was anymore.   
  
All she knew, was pain.   
  
All she remembered, was the face of her beloved daughter, so pure, so innocent, so young---  
  
{Prue is an anagram for Pure, did you know that?}   
  
And it only made matters worse, because once again, she had deprived the world of a Pure being. She had been the responsible for the death of Prue... for both of them.   
  
She could feel him coming, could feel as the room temperature dropped a couple degrees, and how the shadows seemed to grow, to cover him from the light.   
  
And she couldn't care less.   
  
Maybe, if she angered him enough, he would kill her. And all of this would be over with. She would be punished for eternity, she knew that, and accepted it. But she just wanted to get away--- she was willing to endure entire lifetimes of torture, just to experience the few seconds of obliviousness death would grant her.   
  
"What did you do?".   
  
His voice echoed in the empty chamber, but she did not rise. As a matter of fact, the only reaction he got from her, was a quiet gasp that barely left her lips.   
  
"I killed her".   
  
The Source felt his anger gathering, turning into wrath, as he realized the little Witch was much more clever than he had given her credit for. He had seriously expected her to keep her daughter, to keep the baby with her long enough for him to turn her...  
  
"How dare you defy my commands!".   
  
She shrugged her shoulders, and remained silent.   
  
"Look at me, Witch".   
  
She did not move a muscle. In fact, she burrowed even deeper within herself, if that was possible.   
  
The Source stretched out his mind tendrils, and forced her to move. He moved her closer to him, floating her across the room. And still, her eyes looked away, into the dark walls of the chamber.   
  
"I will not repeat myself, Witch".   
  
Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned to look at him. But really, she never did. Her eyes were gazing upon his robed form, and yet, seemed to be lost within themselves.   
  
And he read her mind, as countless times before.   
  
And saw the birth of her daughter, watched as she cried and screamed, trying to keep quiet for her daughter's sake. Watched as she almost bled herself to death, and smiled when his power began healing her wounds.   
  
If he hadn't bonded with her, she would be dead now. And he would have lost two great warriors.   
  
He frowned when he saw her putting the baby down. And his eyes widened, as he watched her throw the fireball.   
  
Great. Just great. *He* had given her the means to accomplish that. *He* had taught her how to summon fireballs--- he lashed out at her, and threw her against the farthest wall.   
  
She slid down it silently, not one cry of pain leaving her parched lips.   
  
But wait--- his old eyes had seen something the Witch had missed. Repeating the scene, he looked carefully. And saw, amazed, as the baby shimmered away, taking the fireball with her.   
  
The stupid Witch had been so caught up in her own pain, she had never realized there were no scorch marks on the floor, and no shock wave indicating the disappearance of the flame.   
  
He marveled at the coincidence.   
  
She was oblivious to this. She really believed her daughter was dead. She truly thought she had killed her.   
  
Humans!.   
  
Then, things weren't completely lost. Maybe, they had even taken a turn for the better... with the firm belief that her daughter was gone, the witch had lost her last attachment to the mortal world. She really had no reason whatsoever to try and remain good...  
  
The Source smiled to himself. He could always send some demon or other to kidnap the little brat. He knew where she was. Could feel the trace of her shimmer, right back into the manor.   
  
And now, the witch had no qualms left.   
  
And he could even turn the events to his own advantage.   
  
"It hurts, doesn't it?".   
  
She barely nodded, lying limp on the floor, her energy sapped.   
  
"Good. Concentrate on the pain. Let it consume you, fill you--- pain is your ally".   
  
His words sounded empty to her ears. It all seemed empty now... nothing made sense.   
  
The world wasn't supposed to work this way. It was supposed to be fun, and entertaining, and sure, with a little sadness here and there... but not this devouring, growing, consuming chain of events, one worse than the previous, all focused on *her*!.   
  
She shook her head, shock settling into her mind, and making it difficult to think. Hell, she was having a hard time trying to *breathe*, it hurt so bad!.   
  
{it's not real, it's not real, it's just a dream, just a nightmare...}  
  
"It's real, witch. And it's their fault".   
  
That made it through. It cut through the curtains clouding her thoughts, and the shadows dancing in her soul. She raised her eyes at him, at what had become the embodiment of everything she had suffered, and at the same time, in a twisted, bizarre way, a savior. A savior to her soul, which wandered through the world, aimless, hopeless--- lost.   
  
"They put you through this. They sent you here. They didn't rescue you".   
  
She nodded slowly, knowing he spoke the truth. And it made sense, to her destroyed, messed-up mind, it was all making perfect sense.   
  
"He got you pregnant. She took him away from you. If they had not forgotten about you, your daughter would be alive".   
  
The mentioning of little Prue got a startled gasp from her lips. The wound was still fresh, and he did not mind probing around it.   
  
"Your daughter could have been saved. She could have lived a happy life, if only they had come for you".  
  
Prue--- her Prue, alive. Alive, and with her. Happy. She shook her head, trying to free it from the tendrils of stupor, of dizziness...  
  
He was right. He was absolutely right.   
  
It was their fault. Again, it was all their fault.   
  
And something inside her chest awoke, something she had thought had died along with her daughter.   
  
Feelings.   
  
Hate.   
  
Pure, dark, polluting hatred.   
  
It grew, where her heart once used to be, occupying the empty space, changing her.   
  
"Remember who your enemies are, witch".   
  
She rose, slowly, still weak from giving birth. And yet, so very, very strong. So powerful, so angered---   
  
And she opened her eyes, and in the flickering candlelights, they shone black.   
  
Pitch black, like bottomless pits, sucking the light from the air around them.   
  
"My name, is Phax".   
  
And the Source smiled again, as he won complete control over her. The last traces of Phoebe Halliwell disappeared, lost with the death of her first and only daughter. And from the ashes emerged Phax, the assassin the Source wanted her to be.   
  
The assassin *she* wanted to be.   
  
Because she would get her revenge. Once she was strong enough, and powerful enough, she would get her revenge. She would kill them all, slowly, enjoying every minute of it--- a broken bone, for every breath her little Prue would never take. A slashed wrist, for every birthday she would never have.   
  
And a bleeding wound, for every tear she had shed--- for them.   
  
You see, when Phax had had her premonition, right after Prue had been born, there was one thing she overlooked. She was so sure Prue would be turned, so convinced she would become a monster, she never really took a good look at the face of the woman in her premonition. She had just assumed it had been Prue, in her teenage years.   
  
Because if she had, maybe the chain of events she had unleashed could've been prevented. Because the woman in her premonition, had been no other than herself.   
  
  
**************************  
  
  
Tbc...  
  
AN2: I knew this was fast, and maybe a little rushed--- but I needed to tell you people something. And since I don't want to leave my fans wanting, I decided to post this.   
  
So, I just wanted to say, KEEP BELIEVING!.  
  
We still have three weeks before the deadline--- America was discovered in a day, and the lightbulb was invented in a heartbeat. We can make this work!.   
  
Do not give up before you try... if you do, then you've been defeated already.   
  
We are the fans of the show, we HAVE to get the word out there!. The petition was been signed by almost two thousand people now, and millions of emails have been sent. We can DO this!.   
  
Just keep bombarding them with letters and mails and signatures--- we WILL win this!.   
  
Julian WILL stay! 


	9. Healing and Hurting

** Change of Heart **, chapter 9: Healing and Hurting  
  
by Lilian  
  
lilian413@yahoo.com  
  
AN: Cindy, this chapter is for you. I wish you had given me an email address to answer to... since you didn't, I dedicate this chapter to the most wonderful review I've ever gotten. Thank you.   
  
Oh, and Malola, if you're reading this, I tried emailing you, but you never answered... I hope we can get in touch, because I would really like to talk to you some more!.   
  
  
***********************  
  
  
  
"Ahem, demon with a problem here".   
  
Cole's voice sounded scared and trembling, as he held Prue at arm's length, refusing to do what Piper had told him a trillion times to do when Prue decided to remind them all she was just a toddler.  
  
Hey, cleaning up after a baby's mess is a woman's job!.   
  
"Come on Cole, stop being such a baby and change her diaper already, would you?".   
  
Paige was having the time of her life. Ever since Prue had taken a liking to the tall half demon, he had been forced to spend most of his time with her. The fact that she cried her lungs out when he wasn't around was a big reason too.   
  
But still, it was hysterical to see the otherwise cool, calm and collected Cole be so--- squeamish when it came to practical details.   
  
Like changing her diapers, for example.   
  
"I'll have you know, demons tremble when they hear my name".   
  
Paige only scoffed at his response, and kept on flicking through a magazine, keeping an eye on him all along.   
  
"Sure. In laughter, they tremble. If they could see you now...".   
  
Cole just approached her, and presented her with Prue's squirming little form.   
  
"Exactly. That's why, *you* should go and change her".   
  
It only took one look into his eyes for Paige to realize he really, *really* didn't want to do this.   
  
"Oh, all right. But only this one time, got it?".   
  
As she took the baby from Cole's already aching arms, she flashed him a smile, and proceeded to orb her way up to Prue and Cole's room.   
  
Cole waited for the lights to be at their dimmest, before muttering one word under his breath, knowing she could still hear him.   
  
"Show off".   
  
Paige's indignant shriek echoed around the house, like a distant call, as her form solidified in the floor above. He only half smiled at it, for the first time in months, content with himself.   
  
He sat in the sunroom, letting the soft breeze coming through the windows caress him.   
  
It was a weird thing these days, for him to be having time alone.   
  
Prue seemingly wanted to monopolize his every waking moment, and the few hours in which the restless baby slept, he was busy vanquishing the demon of the day, or helping the sisters figure out the Source's latest plan.   
  
It was tiring him out--- but he had never felt as alive.   
  
It seemed things were slowly returning to normal... the grieving was still there, hanging over his head, waiting to pounce on him the second he slipped. But it was getting better.   
  
He could now remember her, could bring forth the memories he had tried to hard so bury. He could now remember her without the weight of failure coming back to haunt him.   
  
Acceptance.   
  
He had accepted her death--- and little Prue had a lot to do with it.   
  
She reminded him of Phoebe so much... her energy signature followed him where ever he went, just like her's had done. If he hadn't known it to be impossible, he could have sworn Prue was Phoebe's daughter.   
  
A frown clouded his features, when he recalled yesterday's events.   
  
A demon had shimmered into the manor, and had tried to take Prue.   
  
Again.   
  
With that, it would be seven times they had tried to kidnap the little girl. And with three of them she got out on her own. It seemed Prue had found the ability to shimmer an entertaining one, especially if there was someone after her.   
  
She had this nagging habit of shimmering around the house, giggling all along, squeaking to be caught, and slipping through their fingers every single time. Only he was able to track her down properly, since he could feel her shimmers before they happened.   
  
Her escapades had given Piper and Leo some headaches, but it had also saved her life plenty of times.   
  
It had been the demon's roar of impatience, when Prue shimmered away from him for the who-knows-how-much time, that had alerted them. And ever since then, Prue always had someone around. As much as she let them, anyway.   
  
It was a good thing Prue seemed to like all of them--- and seemed to like orbing as much as she liked shimmering, so Paige and Leo won points on her scale. And Piper's motherly attitude had won the little baby's heart a long time ago.   
  
But still, he could not explain for the love of God, why she liked *him*.   
  
And even better, he liked her back. Loved her, even.   
  
He, who had only loved one person in his entire life--- had fallen fair and square for a gurgling baby. And it scared him. It frightened him beyond anything he had ever felt before.   
  
Because caring meant opening up. And opening up, meant getting hurt.   
  
And he feared pain, because his experiences with it had been long and consuming.   
  
It had been two months since Prue had pretty much thrown herself at them, and still, they had no clue whatsoever as to where she came from.   
  
Darryl's investigation had proven useless, as no missing babies had been reported.   
  
That meant one out of two things: the mother didn't want her, (which he pretty much doubted, since he had felt her sadness just seconds before Prue had appeared), or the mother couldn't keep her. That sounded more convincing.   
  
Maybe Prue's powers had scared the mother away. Maybe she didn't expect her baby to have demonic powers--- because shimmering was most certainly one of them. And it clearly spoke of demonic parenthood. And since demons could not feel human emotions, he was betting his name that the mother was human. Besides, what he had picked out back in the attic had clearly been a female's thoughts.   
  
That left the father to be a demon.   
  
And an upper-class demon, nonetheless.   
  
He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.   
  
Phoebe would've been delighted with the baby in the house. They had never spoken of children, or marriage, for that matter, as she had made it painfully clear that day--- but he could tell she wanted them.   
  
And Prue enchanted anyone who came across her.   
  
And I mean, *anyone*.   
  
When she was around, his loss didn't hurt so bad. In some strange way, she made it all better. And at the same time, worse. Because he could feel his sadness receding, and with it, his memories of her.   
  
And he didn't want to forget her.   
  
He *couldn't* forget her.   
  
If it weren't for Phoebe, he would still be a demonic mercenary, hired for killing and maiming mortals around the world. He would've never met the Halliwell's, never forged such strong relationships with them---   
  
He never would've met little Prue.   
  
And that thought was sometimes more than he could bear.   
  
He could not explain his connection to her--- aside from the fact their eyes were similar. Piper had said she had never seen such a pair of blistering blue eyes... he couldn't help but agree.   
Every time he looked into Prue's eyes, it felt--- strange. It was like he was meant to meet her, as if this event had been planned for millennia, long before Cole was even a speck of dust in the Universe we call Earth.   
  
And their eye color was so amazingly similar... he smiled softly, as he remembered last night's latest Prue adventure. He had gone out, needing to clear his head a bit. Taking long walks often did that for him. Gave him the space he needed.   
  
He should've known better.   
  
It had been almost fifteen minutes, when a distant giggle echoed around him, and he sighed loudly. Knowing what was coming, he simply stretched out his arms, and waited for the bundle to fall into them.   
  
Sure enough, a few seconds later, it did.   
  
Prue had landed straight in his welcoming arms, a toothless grin looking back at him. After a few half meant scolds directed to the seemingly uncaring baby, a soft voice had interrupted his thoughts.   
  
"That's a beautiful baby you have there. You must be very proud".   
  
He had turned, and found himself staring at a young, beautiful woman, walking her dog apparently, if the leash in her hand was any indication.   
  
"Oh, no, she's not---".   
  
A German shepherd had made its way towards them right then, interrupting what should've been a clarification that Prue was not his daughter. But after it happened, he thanked whoever was responsible.  
  
What was he supposed to say?.   
  
'No, she's not my daughter, she's a magical baby with a demon father, who appeared at our house, oh, and I'm a half demon too, by the way. How's your day going?'.   
  
The young woman tenderly patted the dog's head, and whispered nonsense to it. Cole just watched, appalled that there were still people brave enough to talk to strangers in late night San Francisco.   
  
"Maybe I'll see you around someday, Mr.---?".  
  
He took his time to answer the obvious question. He did not want to get involved with her. Didn't plan to, didn't want to. Then why should he answer her?. Well, basic etiquette rules demanded he do, but...  
  
"Turner. Cole Turner".   
  
He switched Prue to his left arm, and stretched out his right one to the strange woman to shake.  
  
"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Turner".  
  
They shook hands, and Cole had a flash of instinct, that suddenly *screamed* at him to get away. He had not picked up any weird vibes from her, but his attention had been focused somewhere else... Prue cooed in his ear, waking him up.   
  
"I should go now. Good bye".   
  
He nodded one last time at the woman, and turned on his heel. It wasn't the wisest thing to do, considering every single instinct he had ever had was bellowing in his ear to shimmer away, but he had no other choice.   
  
Unluckily, since he had his back turned to her, he never saw as the woman's eyes shone red for a second, before her stance shimmered, and she disappeared.   
  
He shook his head, coming back from the flood of memories.   
  
He had caught himself staring off into space several times now, with a goofy smile dancing through his lips.   
  
And he was a little concerned.   
  
Afraid, even.  
  
Afraid that he was loosing touch with his demonic self, and that somehow, that would get them all killed. And he couldn't stand the thought of it.   
  
He heard a distant giggle, and smiled when Paige's baby talk drifted to him across the house.   
  
Little Prue behaved like a child. She gurgled, she ate, she pooped and she slept, not necessarily in that order.   
  
But there were also times in which they couldn't help but be reminded of her ancestry.   
  
Several times, they had caught her staring off into nothingness, her eyes lost, and fixated on something only she could see. Her petite forehead scrunched in concentration, her blue eyes squinted--- and then the illusion would break, as she would clap her hands together, and drool some more.   
  
Or when she shimmered.   
  
Like right now, for example.   
  
"Cole!".   
  
Paige's cry came from across the house.   
  
"Got it!".  
  
He closed his eyes, and looked for her. Surprisingly, (or not?), he found her in the attic. He shimmered up there, stopping briefly in his room to tell Paige where he was going. The young witch followed him, running up the stairs.   
  
When they got up there, little Prue was crawling up to the Book of Shadows, trying with all her might to push it over from the pedestal it stood up on.   
  
"Honey, we've told you about this. The Book is not a toy!".   
  
Paige picked her up, and softly rocked her back and forth. Prue just looked at her, and muttered some baby sounds, as if trying to speak to them.   
  
"Da".   
  
"Cole, did you hear that?".   
  
The half-demon just nodded, experiencing for the first time what it's like to see a new life in development, and to be just plain amazed at it.   
  
"She just said 'dad'. And to you, nonetheless!".  
  
Cole did not answer, his eyes locked with Prue's, fighting to understand the strange feelings coming from his heart. Feelings that up to then, he had only associated with Phoebe, and to a smaller degree, to Piper.   
  
Paige's face lit up in a smile so bright, it battled Prue's.   
  
"Piper, Leo!. Prue said 'dad'!".   
  
She skipped off, little Prue in her arms, to find the missing members of their family. She never saw as Prue climbed on her upper body, and rested her small head against the crook of her shoulder. And she never saw as her eyes were intently fixed on Cole, as if saying 'that was for you'...  
  
She also missed the goofy grin that spread through his lips, at the thought of being called a dad.   
  
Because even in his ignorance of the truth, it felt right.   
  
  
********************************  
  
  
She licked her lips slowly, tasting the coppery taste of her own blood. She grimaced as the wound itched with her saliva, but she welcomed it. One of the first things she had learnt since her true training had began, was to embrace the pain.   
  
She now channeled it into her strength, adding it like fuel to a fire.   
  
A fire that burned high, as she stared at the demon in front of her.   
  
"Bitch".   
  
Jhiera only smiled at the mild taunt, and brushed some strands of blue-black hair aside.   
  
"Is that all you've got, Witch?".   
  
Jhiera would never let go of the fact that Phax wasn't a demon. Or a warlock, for that matter. She took every opportunity she had to remind Phax of that, and as of late, there had been many chances for her to probe around the scarring wound of Phax's humanity.   
  
Phax did not grace her with an answer.   
  
When the Source had found out about their little sparring matches (well, actually, beatings is more like it. Phax was generally on the receiving end of Jhiera's attacks), he had bestowed Jhiera with the responsibility of teaching Phax the proper ways of the demon world.   
  
And Jhiera took that dubious honor to heart.   
  
Hence, they were now once again face to face, Jhiera enjoying the bouts a little too much for Phax's taste.   
  
"Bring it on".   
  
Phax watched intently, as Jhiera moved in on her. She tried so hard to learn from her, even the little things Jhiera would not teach her--- it seemed her kick boxing lessons had paid off. In Jhiera's words, she was 'fairly decent' in hand to hand combat, but still had a lot to learn.   
  
She still retained that sense of fairness that humans carried, that prevented them from exploiting their true abilities further.   
  
But as days went by, she was slowly leaving it behind, not waiting for Jhiera to rise the few times she was able to knock her down. She had stopped offering her hand to her when the friendly gesture won her a trip into the nearest wall the first two times. And she no longer gave her a time out--- not that the powerful she-demon needed many of them.   
  
Sure, Phax had bitten the dust several times, too many, even.   
  
But she was quick learner.   
  
And she was in pretty good shape. The weight of her pregnancy had seemed to vanish along with Prue, and the mass she had gained disappeared with the first few days of intensive training.   
  
Her muscle tone was excellent, and her reflexes were getting better by the day.   
  
In truth, Jhiera liked their sparring matches.   
  
There were few female demons in the Underworld, and to hang around one was a new experience for her. She had been toughened by decades of living in a world dominated by males, and being around Phax was allowing her to recover the female edge she had lost.   
  
She could feel as the cobwebs in her head were destroyed, the female thinking blurting forth, thoughts coming before actions, consequences being weighed before a course of action was taken. She had forgotten how powerful a woman could be.   
  
Had forgotten that once, females had been the dominant gender. That both the Surface and the Underworld had once been a matriarchy, and that through lies and deceit, men had confused and betrayed women, rendering them to seconds in command.   
  
Phax had reminded her of that, and for that, she respected her.   
  
That, and the fact she was becoming more powerful by the day.   
  
It seemed the fire in her eyes never died, the strength in her stride never faltered. Day in and day out, Phax trained. And she kept getting better and better.   
  
And as Cole had once said, demons worship power.   
  
And power was what Phax craved, what she needed, what she longed for--- power to take her revenge upon the Surface, upon those who she had once called family. Upon those who had betrayed her, given up on her, forgotten about her--- buried her before she was dead.   
  
She shook her head, sending the thought away.   
  
And just in time, as Jhiera attacked her full force.   
  
As Phax jumped away from the punches, and dodged her kicks, she began wondering if she could manage to summon a fireball. It usually took her some time to gather her energy, and to concentrate hard enough to even feel the tickle of magic in her hands. But she knew that to win a battle, she would have to be fast.   
  
As she rolled away from Jhiera, she stretched out her hand, and called for a fireball.   
  
{Come on!}  
  
For a split second, her hand tickled, as if she had stuck her fingers in a socket, and she could feel the fire coming---  
  
Jhiera's kick got her by surprise. It pushed the air out of her lungs, and sent her flying. She landed a few feet away, fighting back the groan of pain.   
  
She rolled on the floor, knowing Jhiera would not rest, and stood up in one move. Her fists rose, and she prepared herself for another round.   
  
"Careless, Witch. I could've killed you".   
  
It was strange the way the female demon talked to her. Sometimes, she could swear she read concern in between the lines--- but then she would spit at her, and the spell would be broken. And yet, in a strange, unconscious way, Phax knew she was earning Jhiera's respect.   
  
And she worked hard for it, because winning her, meant she would be ready for her first assignment.   
  
And her fingers, and her heart, ached at the idea of going up to the Surface.   
  
  
  
**************************************  
  
  
"Honey, I don't think this is such a great idea".   
  
Piper did not grace her husband with a look, and as she rocked little Prue up and down, she just muttered an answer.   
  
"You have been saying that for the past forty-five minutes. I'm not listening any more".   
  
Leo sighed, rubbing his temples, feeling the headache coming. It was just that Piper, and her motherly instincts, were getting on his nerves!. Especially if those said instincts, told the eldest Halliwell to take the baby that had shimmered into the manor, probably was half demon, and didn't act like a baby at all, to the doctor.   
  
'We have to make sure she's all right. Every baby has to have a pediatrician'.   
  
With that sentence, she had simply walked away, gotten into the car, and started the engine. She had seemed to know Leo would cave, and had waited for him. Sure enough, a couple of minutes later, a very contrite Leo had gotten in the car, and held Prue while Piper drove.   
  
Strangely, the doctor's office was packed. It seemed every single squirming, crying, no, make that bellowing baby in San Francisco had set up an appointment for today. And since Piper hadn't had one, they had been waiting in the waiting room for almost an hour now.   
  
Little Prue didn't seem to mind though. The little girl seemed to know when it wasn't proper for her to shimmer---as a matter of fact, she never did it, unless they were inside the manor. Baby instinct, or something.   
  
"But Piper--".   
  
She just turned to look at him, something akin to annoyance flashing through her eyes. When Leo whined, it was--- well, it was just so darn cute!. But quite frankly, she was getting tired of it.   
  
"Honey, please. It's just a routine checkup".   
  
She was confident that doctor Anderson would keep quiet if any strange signals appeared in Prue's tests. Dr. Anderson had been their doctor too--- Prue, Piper *and* Phoebe had all heard her calm, soothing voice while she checked their pupils, and softly patted their stomach. And all three of them had fond memories of her... she was almost certain her mother had somehow revealed some of the truth to the good doctor.   
  
She *had* after all, processed their blood samples, even from they were babies. And like Dr. Williamson had so painfully proved, their blood wasn't normal.   
  
So, she wasn't nervous about taking little Prue to the doctor. And she liked to keep Leo on his toes...   
  
"Honey, don't worry. Dr. Anderson was our doctor. She has to know something".   
  
Before Leo could get any words in, a nurse rose from the nurse's station, and called out a name.   
  
"Halliwell".   
  
Piper rose, taking the baby with her. Leo followed her, his features more relaxed, carrying the baby bag.   
  
As they walked through the hallway, on their way to office number 6, Leo whispered at her, careful not to let his voice drift into any of the open doors they passed on their way.   
  
"You could've said something!".   
  
Piper smiled at him, and what little anger he had, melted away. She stopped briefly to kiss him on the cheek, and he felt another sloppy kiss on the other side of his face, followed by a loud 'Da da!'.   
  
He sighed dramatically, and realized the Halliwell women would be the end of him.   
  
"Piper, honey!. Oh my God, you're such a lovely woman!".   
  
Dr. Anderson greeted them from outside her office, and Piper could see how time had passed. She had last seen the doctor when she was about thirteen--- but still, behind the wrinkles and gray hair, lay the soft, warm eyes of a woman she had grown to like in her childhood.   
  
"Dr. Anderson!".   
  
Her squeal was that of a teenager, as she hugged the smaller woman fiercely. The doctor returned the hug with a strength rare for a woman her age.   
  
"So, is this the lucky man?".   
  
Piper blushed softly, while Leo introduced himself. He could feel the good in her, could feel all the good she had done, and all the good she still had to do. He smiled openly, sure that they were in the right hands.   
  
"So pleased to meet you, Mr. Wyatt. Come in, come in please!".   
  
She ushered them inside, and closed the door behind her, leaving them in the relative privacy of her consulting room.   
  
Prue gurgled and sucked on her thumb, curiously looking around the room.   
  
"And who is this little angel?".  
  
The old doctor tickled the underside of Prue's chin, and the baby giggled loudly, her features squinched in pleasure.   
  
"Ahem--- Prue. *Our* Prue".   
  
Piper's not so silent slap in Leo's arm did not go unnoticed to the doctor, but she did not question them any further.   
  
Ever since Patty Halliwell had come, with the first of her children, Prue she remembered her to be, she had known something was different about this family. But it was a good kind of different. And she had kept quiet when the blood samples came back all wrong, and even when little Prue had moved some baby cubes without even touching them.   
  
And she knew in her heart it was the right thing to do.   
  
{So, another addition to the Halliwell family. What will she be able to do when the time comes?}.  
  
"Is there anything wrong with her?".   
  
Piper put Prue down on the examination table, and sat down on a chair nearby. Leo just stood behind her, her hand seeking his behind her. And Dr. Anderson smiled, knowing true love when she saw it.   
  
"No, not at all. I just wanted you to check her up".   
  
Dr. Anderson put on the glasses that until then had been hanging around her neck.   
  
"Let's see, then".   
  
Prue waved her chubby little arms at her, and clapped her hands, a little bit of drool hanging from her lip. It only made her look all the more adorable.   
  
"You're a happy girl, aren't you, dear?".   
  
The girl stretched out her arm, and softly poked the doctor on the nose.   
  
"Da da".   
  
Dr. Anderson smiled at the girl, surprised.   
  
"How old is she, Piper?".   
  
That seemed to put the eldest Halliwell in a little bit of trouble. She stammered, racking her mind for an answer. It was Leo the one who spoke, at last.   
  
"She just turned three months last 27th".   
  
As the doctor turned her eyes back to the squirming baby, that had decided looking at the examination table wasn't fun anymore, and had moved on to examining her hands thoughtfully, as if she had never seen them before, she missed Leo's shrugged shoulders at Piper's questioning glare.   
  
Just then, a soft knock interrupted them. A female young nurse entered, carrying a closed enveloped in her hands.   
  
They had taken some blood samples early on, and Prue had just watched the needle with curious eyes, and only flinched when it prickled her skin. They were ready now.   
  
She asked the doctor about some thing or another, and Piper tugged on Leo's arm, getting him to bend over.   
  
"What was that all about?".   
  
Leo smiled sheepishly, and answered.  
  
"I've been doing some math, and I guessed she was just born when she came into the house. So I guess her birthday is that day, August the 27th. Hey, I had to tell her something!".   
  
He straightened up in a haste, as the nurse bid their good-byes, and the doctor turned back to them.   
  
"So, let's see how little Prue is doing".   
  
She opened the envelope, sealed for patient-doctor privacy, and read the numbers. As Piper and Leo looked at her expectantly, and Prue tried to crawl off the table in vain, there was no change in the doctor's demeanour that could indicate anything wrong.   
  
A clock ticked away, and Leo counted up to one hundred and thirteen before the doctor looked up.   
  
"Well?".   
  
Piper's voice was questioning, genuine concern clouding her tone.   
  
"Everything is perfect".   
  
The breath the couple had been holding was let loose, and it come out loudly, making both of them blush, and cough for coverage.   
  
"Her blood type is AB. Oh my, that is Phoebe's same blood type. How odd is that?. Her blood cell count is normal, no evidence of any disease as of now, and her blood temperature seems a little high, that could be due to her nervousness. This is her first time to the doctor, isn't it?".   
  
Piper nodded absently, somehow feeling an important revelation had just been made, and that she was going to miss it if she didn't think it through.   
  
"Piper, you know better than to keep such a lovely girl unattended. I'm going to schedule another meeting a month from now, okay?".   
  
As Dr. Anderson wrote something on her agenda, and called a nurse on the intercom, Piper thought long and hard.   
  
She could feel as the room closed in on her, as all of a sudden, too many things made sense.   
  
Things that she should have picked up before.   
  
Prue had blue eyes.   
  
Prue could shimmer.  
  
Cole said she reminded him of Phoebe.   
  
Prue had Phoebe's same blood type, which was strange in itself, since AB was a rare type among humans.   
  
She gasped loudly, and her hand flew to her mouth to stifle it.   
  
Leo coughed again, hiding her panting behind his own throat clearing.   
  
Dr. Anderson just looked at them strangely, and went outside to fix the last of the details, leaving them alone in her office. Something was telling her they needed some time alone.   
  
The second the door closed behind her, Leo squeezed Piper's hand, and kneeled by her side. On the table nearby, Prue giggled at some ornaments that hung from the ceiling, seemingly distracted by all the conversation going on around her.   
  
"Honey, are you all right?".   
  
Piper nodded in silence, thoughts running through her head so fast, the room spun around her, and her vision blurred at the sheer meaning of it.   
  
"Leo---".   
  
Her breath caught in her throat, she could not continue. She could not tell him, not now, not here... she needed to be sure. She needed proof before she could go around blurting it out.   
  
"Piper?".   
  
The door opened then, and Dr. Anderson walked in, holding a chart and skimming through it.   
  
Piper mouthed an 'I'll be fine' to her husband, and squeezed his hand tenderly. Leo kept quiet, knowing better than to ask her in the presence of one who was not aware of the things that go bump in the night.   
  
"I've arranged for her to get her shots later, if you can. I would really like you to bring her in about a month from now, okay?. Just routine check up, and to make sure she's doing all right. Is that okay with you?".   
  
"Su--sure. We'll stay for the shots. We can stay. For the shots. Shots are good. We'll stay. Right?".   
  
She looked up to her husband, knowing she was stuttering, but she couldn't help it. Leo squeezed her hand back, and handled the rest of the interview.   
  
It was all a blur to her.   
  
She vaguely remembered saying goodbye to the doctor, promising to keep in touch--- she moved in to pick up Prue, and the little girl stretched out her arms at her, gurgling at her aunt (oh my God, she was an aunt!).  
  
She carried the baby away, and walked in a daze through the hallways, Leo's comforting presence behind her. She needed to get home. There were many things to be done.   
  
She needed to look into the Book of Shadows, needed to find a spell.   
  
If her suspicions were true--- Cole was much more attuned to Prue than he had ever thought. And so were all of them.   
  
Because she was almost certain Prue was Phoebe and Cole's daughter.   
  
And if that were true--- a familiar ache made its way into her heart, as she realized that when she discovered the truth of Prue's parentage, she had barely brushed the tip of the iceberg.   
  
Because if Phoebe was Prue's mother--- that meant Phoebe was alive.   
  
  
*******************************  
  
  
It was many hours later that she stumbled into her quarters. Summoning a privacy shield, one of the first charms the Source had taught her, she blocked herself in. She still needed her privacy, even if demons clearly did not understand the meaning of the word.  
  
She let herself fall unceremoniously onto the bed, and burrowed her face into the silken sheets, fighting for her breath.   
  
She hated this.   
  
She hated the quiet moments, where her memories sprang forth, shook the dust off themselves, and danced on the inside of her closed eyelids, forcing her to see them.   
  
She refused to rise from the bed, or even to turn around.   
  
The walls of the chamber brought back so many unpleasant memories, that she dared not confront them.  
  
Sometimes, when she lay inside the bed, awake, her eyes fixed on the ceiling above, she heard ghosts of sounds, coming through the recesses of her mind.   
  
A soft echo--- a baby's gurgle.   
  
And in times like those, she would snap her eyes shut, and force herself not to cry. Phax did not cry. Phax was a demon, unmerciful, deadly and terrible. Phoebe Halliwell was dead, had died along her daughter, exactly three months, four days and seven hours ago.   
  
It was sick, to keep such an accurate track of time. And she thought it utterly pathetic, but she just couldn't stop!.   
  
She frowned, as she felt the doubts rising, and the confusion grabbing hold of her. Her hands became fists, and she grabbed handfuls of sheets in them, and still, her long fingernails dug holes in her skin.   
  
And she kept pushing, feeling the soft trickle of her own blood down her fingers, and quite frankly, not caring.   
  
Her wounds always healed. Her scratches always disappeared. It didn't matter how deep, ugly or big they were--- the Source's healing powers seemed infinite. And she didn't know whether to thank him, or hate him for it.   
  
She rolled on the bed, and laid on her back.   
  
Though there were no mirrors in the Underworld, she had known the second her eyes had changed. Had felt how her iris shifted, from deep brown, to consuming black. Her perception of the world had changed along with them, granting her keener eyesight, and even some night vision she hadn't possessed before.   
  
All the improvements she needed, she would go through.   
  
Because she had a vengeance to satisfy.   
  
And power was the way to go.   
  
His face still haunted her dreams. Still came to visit her, when her guards were down, and her strength sapped from a too-intense training session. And she liked the fact that every single time, her belly burnt with fire, a fire so different from the one that had once blazed inside of her. A long time ago, his features brought passion and lust to her--- now, all they seemed to call forth was hate--- because it was his fault her daughter had died.   
  
It was all because of him.   
  
He was the one to blame for the death of her baby. For the *murder* of her baby.   
  
Her hands covered her face, as she fought back the onslaught of sadness that consumed her whenever she thought of her little girl.   
  
{Prue}  
  
Even to think her name was torture. Because remembering her, meant remembering a sister she had once had, and that brought back recollections of a different life, a different past, that she struggled to keep buried.   
  
Soon.  
  
Soon she would have her revenge. Soon, the Source would grant her permission to go up, and then--- a wicked smile danced across her lips, so evil, so *sad* it wasn't a smile at all.   
  
Then, things would be better.   
  
Because the *second* she was strong enough to defeat them, they would know what true pain was. She would show them, gladly. With a smile in her heart.   
  
Because they would pay. Oh yes, they would.   
  
They would pay in spades.   
  
  
  
*********************************  
  
  
Tbc...  
  
  
A note to all of those who are working hard to keep Julian on the show... I want to thank you, from the bottom of my heart. What we're doing here is something I thought could never be accomplished. We have come together asa community, and are getting the word out there. Don't give up now!.   
  
Keep emailing, keep writing letters, keep signing the petition--- we must ENSURE Julian will stay!. There's nothing certain, until the WB releases a statement. And so fr, we have gotten none. So, we keep on pushing, until Aaron Spelling himself comes out, and tell us Cole will not be killed off!.   
  
United we stand, divided we fall.   
  
(I think I ended a chapter like that, didn't I? :p) 


	10. Realizations

** Change of Heart **, chapter 10: Realizations  
  
by Lilian  
  
lilian413@yahoo.com  
  
AN: Chapter 10, for all of those that have been expecting it. This will be the last installment until the first week of March--- I'm going to the beach!!. yay!!. Sun, beach, pool, cute guys... the one drawback, is little-to-none internet access. I think I will be able to answer my email, sporadically, but posting... a big no-no. But I promise you I will return with chapter 11, where *finally* the confrontation occurs!.   
  
Review, okay?. Inspire me so I write a fantabulous chapter 11!.   
  
  
  
****************************  
  
  
  
"Would you slow down, Piper?".   
  
As Piper sped around the corner, Leo instinctively blocked the baby's car seat protectively. A quick glance to the back of the car made him realize how quickly Prue had grown in the time she'd come to live with them and how much he wanted to protect her.   
  
It wasn't an easy task by any means. Aside from the fact Prue was growing with each passing day, gaining both weight and mobility, there was the constant danger of demons popping in unannounced looking for her.   
  
Thankfully, the doctor had pronounced her a happy healthy baby of three months and four days. Now, if only Piper would look as reassured as he knew she was feeling. Instead, his wife had broken several traffic laws, and dismissed a red light or two.   
  
"This can't wait".   
  
Piper had never been a speeder, and it worried Leo. This kind of reckless behavior reminded him of the days just after Prue's death. Uncaring, unfocused, impatient---  
  
"If you kill us, we'll never get there in the first place!".   
  
That seemed to make it through, and she took her foot off of the gas pedal. Not very much, but just enough to slow down to the city speed limit.   
  
They careened on the corner of Prescott Street, and Piper slammed her foot on the brake, still keeping an eye on Leo and the giggling baby in his arms. Little Prue seemed to like the wind blowing in her face, that was coming through the open car windows, and gurgled loudly, clapping her hands.   
  
She unbuckled her seat belt, and ran out of the car, throwing the keys at Leo to lock it. He sighed loudly, and wondered if his wife wasn't in serious need of a sedative.   
  
He locked the car, after unbluckling Prue, and taking their belongings out, and strode into the house, where a flabbergasted Paige waited for him at the foot of the stairs.   
  
"What was that all about?".   
  
Leo shook his head, and put Prue in Paige's arms. The baby cooed some more, and sucked on a stray lock of Paige's hair.   
  
"She is not talking".   
  
Cole walked in just then, and his eyes lit up at the sight of Prue, who in turn, stretched her arms out at him, demanding his attention.   
  
"How was the doctor, Leo?".   
  
The whitelighter waved his hands about, his eyes glued to the stairwell, wondering whether he should be orbing up there, like, right now.   
  
"Fine. It's Piper I'm worried about".   
  
Cole raised an eyebrow at the comment, and Paige just shrugged her shoulders. It was then that a triumphant cry made its way to them, coming from the attic.   
  
"Found it!".   
  
Paige rearranged Prue in her arms, and moved up the stairs. Cole and Leo followed, their frowns evident in the both their faces. Paige just carried a questioning expression in her eyes, wondering just what new hocus pocus Piper had come up with.   
  
As they entered the attic, Piper's silent whispers reached them, as she read down a certain page of the Book of Shadows, keeping her hair out of the way with her left hand.   
  
"Honey, is everything all right?".  
  
Piper waved a hand in Leo's general direction, never taking her eyes off the Book.  
  
"More than all right. Perfect!".   
  
She turned to the next page, and seemed displeased with what she saw.   
  
"That's it?. That's all?. How am I supposed to know if this is going to work?".   
  
Cole walked up to her, and read from behind her shoulder.   
  
'Family Ties', read the page, in that bold, beautiful handwriting that covered the Book from cover to cover.   
  
"What do we need this for?".   
  
Piper craned her neck, and looked at him. A devil smile danced through her lips, and a spark of excitement shone so bright in her eyes, Cole mused if she wasn't on something.   
  
"Truth".   
  
Paige waited aside, busy entertaining Prue with baby talk and funny faces.   
  
"What truth?".   
  
Her question was more out of habit than interest, since she wasn't really paying attention to what was going on around her.   
  
"You'll see".   
  
And before anyone else could talk, or interrupt her, she read the spell.  
  
"Blood to blood,  
Bone to bone,   
sight unseen, ties unknown,  
feel the ties than run so deep,  
uncover them in front of me".   
  
She absently mused at the lack of rhyme her ancestors had, before bright light erupted from the book, and enveloped all of them.   
  
None of them cried out, well, Paige did shriek a little, still unused to the sudden spurts of life the Book amazed them with. But the light was not evil--- it almost seemed to be looking for something.   
  
So they remained still, letting it do its magic.   
  
When it died down, Piper rubbed her eyes, trying to rid them of the black spots dancing in her vision. Being the closest one to the Book, she had taken the full blunt of the glow.   
  
"Damn spells, should come with a warning!. This is like the third time this has happened!. I'm really considering---".   
  
Her breath caught in her throat, as she saw the effects her spell had had.   
  
All five of them were glowing. Glowing, as in, shinning with pretty colors. Leo shone in a light blue, much like his orbing lights looked like. Paige's aura seemed darker, but also retained the blue qualities of what Piper deemed as whitelighter's.   
  
She looked down, and found herself shinning with a light green. She turned her head to look at Cole, and smiled when his aura shone a deep, wine-like red.   
  
"Figures".   
  
As her eyes adjusted to the almost strobe-like lights, she noticed something else. A faint string of white connected her to Paige. And she turned, half expecting, almost knowing what she was about to see.   
  
A faint cord of light stretched out from Cole's surprised form, and crossed the room, running straight into little Prue, which, Piper noted, shone with a beautiful purple aura. An almost invisible cord connected Prue and Paige too.   
  
Almost as an afterthought, she realized she and Prue were also connected.  
  
"Piper, what is this?".   
  
"Proof".   
  
Her eyes were wide open, and her breath was coming in short gasps, at the sudden truth. Because she had been right. She had been right!. Phoebe had been alive for nine more months--- at least!. She had been alive--- and they had done nothing!.   
  
The room tilted, and she felt her knees wobbling from under her. Leo was by her side in a second, as the lights dimmed away, their auras disappearing. While Prue tried to grab the glitters in her small, little fingers, Piper hid her face in Leo's chest, and cried.   
  
Cried, because she had failed her sister.   
  
Again.   
  
  
  
********************************  
  
  
  
Paige watched the display in front of her with a weird look in her eyes. She walked up to the Book in silence, and read the open page in front of her.   
  
And line by line, word by word, the truth was revealed to her. She had seen the cords too--- and now she understood the meaning of them. She turned her eyes to the baby in her arms, and Prue stared back at her, her big, blue eyes sparkling in merriment, as if she had a secret they knew nothing about, and she wasn't telling.   
  
"Oh my God".   
  
She sank back into an old chair, grateful that her legs did not have to hold her up anymore.   
  
Cole looked at Leo, who in turn looked back at him, from above Piper's still sobbing form. And he shrugged at the older man, still in the dark as to why the two women had broken down into sobs.   
  
"Paige, what is it?".   
  
Cole asked the youngest, knowing Piper was in no condition to be speaking.   
  
"Prue-- Prue is--- your daughter, Cole".  
  
A blanket of deep silence covered the room, broken only by Prue's random gurgle, as Paige's arms around her suddenly became slack, and she was able to move around. Almost as an aferthought, Paige ut Prue down, letting the young yet restless baby free to move around.   
  
The small baby seemed oblivious to everyone's eyes, which were fixed on her, as if she had just sprouted another head.   
  
"What?".   
  
His voice came out in a harsh whisper, reminding them of Belthazor's voice. Deeper, richer... different.   
  
"The spell Piper read... it was meant to show us the family ties between us. And you and Prue are connected. Just as Piper and me".   
  
Cole had stopped breathing when Paige had spoken. And he listened to her words, and yet none of them made sense.   
  
His daughter?. Prue was his daughter? That was ludicrous!. Demons did not bear children!. He looked at Prue, who had now slid off Paige's arms, and had promptly began crawling around the room... and so many things made sense.   
  
Things he had noticed, and had pushed back in his head, afraid of the implications.   
  
Prue's eyes.   
  
The way she was so like Phoebe and yet, not.   
  
The deep affection he felt for her... Gods, how could he have been so stupid!. It was so obvious!. As he chastised himself for not knowing sooner, a faint voice in the back of his head whispered to him that he had, in fact, known this.   
  
Imbedded deep into his psyche, he had known.   
  
He had known the second he laid eyes on Prue... his heart surged with pride, and love, and happiness--- until a thought made its way into his mind.   
  
If Prue was his daughter, that meant---   
  
{Oh my God!}  
  
His vision blurred, and he slumped forward, his body suddenly deprived of any energy.   
  
{Phoebe!}  
  
She was alive!. Or at least, she had been alive for nine months after she had disappeared... it had all been a lie. The visions of her death, the severed link--- lies, all lies!. And he had believed them, every single one of them, without asking, without checking!!.   
  
"No...".   
  
His hands sought support and found it in the Book of Shadows, lying in front of him. The logical part of his mind screamed at him to move, or the Book would zap him--- but nothing came. And still, he could not care less.   
  
He would trade everything-- *everything* to have her back.   
  
And yet, there was nothing he could do to erase his sins. He had let his Phoebe remain in the Underworld, probably being tortured, while he had settled into a comfortable routine, and made himself comfortable with her family!.   
  
His stomach revolted at the idea, and he just wished the whole world would cave in on him, and send him to Hell already.   
  
Because, it was all his fault.   
  
  
**************************  
  
  
  
Leo could feel as things were slipping right through his fingers. With each passing second, they got more and more out of control, until he was sure he would snap too.   
  
Not that he hadn't danced along the way of insanity ever since this news had been thrown at them.   
  
Phoebe was alive.   
  
Or at least, had been alive for longer than they had thought.   
  
And they hadn't done anything... he fought back the urge to punch his fist through the wall, knowing it would earn him nothing but a bleeding fist he could not even heal later on. But he needed something, needed to take his anger out at something!.   
  
Piper lay in their bed, her eyes wide and unseen, staring at the ceiling. Silent tears made their way down her cheeks, and the occasional sob broke the silence. And again, there was nothing Leo could do to reach her.   
  
What a husband he had turned out to be.   
  
It sickened him, the idea that Phoebe had lived in the Underworld for nine months without their knowledge. Gods, the things she must've experienced--- his heart reached out for her, knowing it was all in the past now.   
  
And yet, not.   
  
Penny Halliwell's words came back to haunt him. Phoebe *was* dead. Her link to Cole had been severed and a soul mate only lost touch with the other when death intervened. And her soul was still suffering in the Underworld... still within the hellish clutches of the Source.   
  
He crawled into the bed, needing to feel Piper's warmth, even if she hadn't spoken a word since they had found out up in the attic.   
  
Hesitantly, he reached out for Piper--- and unlike other times, she did not quail from his touch. She even gave in, and cuddled up against him, hiding her face in his chest. He rested his chin atop her hair, and breathed in deeply, trying to keep the phantoms of failure away.   
  
But he couldn't.   
  
He had failed to protect them, again. He was their whitelighter, he was supposed to keep them safe, godamnit!.   
  
He stifled a sob in his chest, and breathed an apology to his wife.   
  
"I'm so sorry".   
  
Piper did not answer right away. Her hands encircled his waist, and hugged him tight.   
  
And her soft, shaky voice emerged from the cocoon she had built around her.   
  
"Why?. It's not your fault".   
  
Leo closed his eyes tight, fighting back the tears of helplessness and the dread that had seeped into his bones.   
  
"Yes, it is".   
  
She raised her eyes at him, welled up in tears, and in them, Leo found a despair that mirrored his own.   
  
"No. If anyone is to blame for this, it should be me. I let her go see Emma, I let her out of my sight. I stopped looking for her, and I pronounced her dead with even making an effort to find her. It was my fault, and it just hurts!. It hurts and I can't breathe because of it!".   
  
The last few sentences had been punctuated with weak punches on Leo's chest, as Piper tried to blow some steam off. But when her words died out, so did her strength, and she let herself fall in his embrace again.   
  
And she cried into his chest, wishing once, just once, she hadn't screwed things up. She had lost two sisters, *two*, to evil, and she just couldn't take it anymore. It seemed every time she was on her way to recovery, every time she tried to be happy, magic came and messed with her head, destroying her life, destroying it beyond repair.   
  
"Leo, please, make it stop!".   
  
Her desperate sobs were like daggers into his heart, as he could only hold her and hope for the better.   
  
"Gods, if only I could've done something!. I hate being so weak!".   
  
The anger came and went for Piper. It swept into her, infusing her with energy to spit out the words, and then left her in a daze, as it receded away from her body, pushed back by the tears and the pain.   
  
"Piper, don't talk like that".   
  
Leo's voice was barely a whisper, as he fought his own demons.   
  
"You're the strongest woman I know".   
  
Piper shook off his arms from around her, and rolled in the bed, turninging away from him.   
  
"I'm not. I'm weak and powerless and I could do nothing to save Prue. Or Phoebe. And I won't be able to save you either".   
  
Leo sat in the bed, trying to look at her face. She just burrowed deeper within herself, hiding from him. From herself. From everyone. He understood why she felt the imperious need to protect him... it was the pain talking, whispering in her ear, making her fear things that hadn't been an issue up until then.   
  
"Piper, don't".   
  
A few seconds went by, in which the soft ticking of the bed-stand clock could be heard, before Piper turned in a flurry of hair and flashing eyes, and sat up.   
  
And she was angry.   
  
At whom, she could not say.   
  
Maybe at herself, for *ever* believing she could be happy. Maybe at--- it was a futile attempt.  
Her anger was vague, unfocused, infusing her every thought, making it hard to keep in check. And she didn't care. Anger she could deal with. Pain--- pain was hard, and it hurt, and it was forever.   
  
"Yes. I dare. And I will say it. Prue died because you healed me first. Phoebe died because I didn't protect her enough. It is all my fault, and there's nothing you can say to change it, because it happened, and it's the *truth*!".   
  
Her arms flew up in the air, accentuating her words. And the stereo blew up, in a small explosion of metal and wires.   
  
That seemed to calm her down a little, as her hands slowly descended to her lap, where they rested, not moving... she did not look up, and her hair curtained her face. But Leo knew what he would see if he looked.   
  
Her beautiful features drawn in a grimace so deep, and anguish so steep---  
  
"Maybe".   
  
He spoke softly, knowing she could not take anything more right now. And he spoke from his heart, trying to calm her *and* himself... trying to mend their broken lives into something resembling normality.   
  
"Maybe. That's one way of putting it. But that's a twisted version of the truth, Piper. And you know it. What happened was out of your control, and you had no way of knowing. It's the natural flow of life--- and we must learn to deal with it, even if it tears us down...".  
  
With every word he spoke, Piper seemed to straighten, her back rising. As his voice died out, she looked at him, into those beautiful, thoughtful eyes, and *believed* it.   
  
"Besides, if Phoebe was alive long enough to give birth to Prue, it means there is a good chance she *is* still be alive. We might still have a chance to save her, Piper".   
  
Leo hadn't meant to say that. He had tried to soothe her, to say something understanding, and comforting--- but it was too late to take the words back. Yet, when he said them out loud, they did not sound so far-fetched.  
  
As Leo's words registered in Piper's battered psyche, a ray of hope made its way into her heart. The Elders had screwed up before. Maybe Phoebe wasn't dead... maybe the Source had only found a way to sever Phoebe's connection to the Powers that Be, and even to Cole.   
  
A ghost of a smile graced her lips, as hope gave her some of her energy back.   
  
Maybe, just maybe--- they would have a chance to make this right.   
  
  
*******************************  
  
  
He sat in his room, his eyes locked on Prue's crib. The baby slept soundly, unaware of the troubled man that hadn't looked away from her for the past hour. The room was dark, as the sun had set, and Cole had not made a single move to turn on the lights.   
  
His eyes seemed fixed on the baby that slept just a few feet away from him... and one could not say if in fear, or awe.   
  
He had been sitting there for the past hour, not moving, and to Paige, not breathing. She had been watching him in silence for the past fifteen minutes, and not one sign told her he was even still alive.   
  
"Are you gonna stay there all night?".  
  
She jumped in surprise when he spoke. And frowned when she noticed the lack of emotion in his voice.   
  
She laughed nervously, and then slapped herself mentally, as she realized he probably wasn't in the mood for laughter.   
  
Gods, what was she supposed to do?. She had never been this touchy-feely person, and Cole looked like he was in serious need for a hug right now. Or just, any real, *human* touch--- the man looked on the brink of insanity.  
  
"Sorry".  
  
Her apology came out sheepish, but it was the best she could do. She walked into the room, and thought about turning on the lights... but then thought better of it. She had had her share of mourning, with her parents' death, and later on, with Phoebe. She had realized darkness was the way to go.   
  
It was easier to think in the dark. At least for her.   
  
It seemed to work just fine for the half-demon.   
  
She leaned by the door, unsure on what to say, and yet, needing to say something---   
  
"She's beautiful, isn't she?".   
  
His voice came to her in a whisper, across the room. And she nodded slowly, before she noticed Cole could not see her in the dark.   
  
"Yeah. She looks a lot like Phoebe".   
  
The obvious stiffening of Cole's stance at the mention of her sister's name did not go unnoticed to her. But she did not apologize. Somehow, in some, carnal, basic way, she knew Cole needed to deal with what had transpired up in the attic--- and running away from her name was not an option.   
  
"She does, doesn't she?".   
  
Every time he spoke, he seemed to shrink... letting the weight of things he thought he was to blame for accumulating, overpowering him.   
  
"But she has your eyes...".   
  
Through the light that came in from the hallway, Paige could see as Cole slowly turned to look at her. And there was such sadness in his eyes, such--- *defeat*, she gasped at the sheer weight of it.   
  
"I know".   
  
She walked up to the crib, and looked inside, her eyes softening at the sight of the sleeping little girl.   
  
{You stirred quite a mess, honey. And you can't even understand it, can you?}.  
  
They remained in silence for a while, only their soft breathings interrupting the quiet.   
  
"It was not your fault".   
  
Cole seemed to have been slapped. His eyes darted at her, freezing her on the spot. And the sadness receded, just to let the anger shine through his blue eyes.   
  
"Really?. And how is that?".   
  
Paige was tempted to snap back at him for the sarcasm that dripped from his words. But she had dealt with her fair share of parental-lashing, and she knew anger did not discriminate the receiving end.   
  
So, she took a deep breath, to calm her temper, and waited until he seemed to calm down too to answer his remark.   
  
"We accepted the truth we were given. There was no reason to question it".   
  
He rose from his seat, for the first time in hours, and walked briskly towards the window, turning his back to her.   
  
"And you think that makes it better?".   
  
She tucked her hair behind her ear, and tried to put into words what was running through her head.   
  
"It should. Phoebe was--- she was a strong woman. She wouldn't have wanted you endangering yourself just to rescue her".   
  
That was the truth, and they both knew it. Phoebe had been as protective of Cole as Cole had been of her.   
  
"I should've known, Paige".   
  
She knew what he was trying to say. He should've felt the baby in Phoebe's belly, should've realized she was pregnant--- maybe, if he had known, he wouldn't have left her alone, and this mess wouldn't have happened in the first place.   
  
"I'm betting *she* didn't know, Cole. You shouldn't be doing this to yourself".   
  
He turned to look at her, and his eyes shone in the dark, as he spoke once again.   
  
"Paige, you don't understand. She was pregnant. *Pregnant*. And she went through all of that alone--- and in Hell!. Do you know what that must've been like?".   
  
In an uncharacteristic display of affection, Paige rested her hand on Cole's shoulder, and tried to somehow send him her strength. Whitelighter powers and all.   
  
It seemed to work, because the storm raging in his eyes seemed to calm down, and was no longer a typhoon...   
  
"I don't. None of us do. But don't you see?. She must've sent Prue to us. She wanted us to protect her--- she *knew* we would protect her. And that *you* would be watching over her".   
  
Prue chose that moment to yawn, and open her eyes lazily. As her little arms and legs waved around, she seemed to battle the last droplets of sleep, and was soon staring at them, her blue eyes wide and curious.   
  
"Do you think she knows?".   
  
Cole's voice was barely a whisper, even if Prue was already awake. And the open question refered to so many things, that to any other would've seen incongrous. But to Paige, it made perfect sense.   
  
"On some level, I think she does. But she also knows her father is here".   
  
Father. The word seemed to echo around them, repeating itself endlessly, until it died away into the darkness.   
  
And Cole felt as some of his guilt disappeared--- because Prue had been there for Phoebe, when he hadn't been. When he had quit on her, and left her for dead, their daughter had been there... and he *knew* Prue shared a connection with Phoebe that went beyond the usual mother-daughter link.   
  
And he was afraid, afraid that now that he knew the truth, Prue would somehow hate him.   
  
Slowly, hesitantly, fully expecting Prue to reject his touch, his hand touched the baby's chin. And her delicious smile, full of joy and so completely innocent, filled his heart with hope.   
  
He had failed Phoebe--- and there was nothing he could do to change that. His heart ached at her memory, and his own mind chastised him every hour of the day. It would be something he would have to live for, every single day of his almost eternal life. He could only hope to atone for his sins by taking care of their daughter... the daughter he hadn't known he had, until a few hours ago.   
  
{I'm sorry, Phoebe. I swear to you, no one will ever harm our little girl. I'll make sure she never feels the pain you and I have shared}.  
  
And, as Prue grabbed his fingers with her little chubby hands and squeezed them strongly, Cole felt a connection awakening, inside of him, where Phoebe's presence resided. And he understood perfectly know, why Prue held a piece of his heart that up until then, belonged to Phoebe alone.   
  
A connection to his daughter...  
  
He took her from her crib, and cuddled her against his chest. And Prue burrowed deep into him, and sighed contentedly.   
  
The three of them remained in silence, Paige feeling a little bit out of place, until Cole's eyes opened and looked at her from behind Prue's small body.   
  
And in them, she saw all the gratitude she needed.   
  
The last of the bonds was established, as the Witch, the Demon and the Child breathed in the darkness, waiting for the next day to come...  
  
  
******************  
  
  
Tbc....  
  
next chapter, coming on March 2nd (just to be sure) 


	11. Acquaintances

** Change of Heart **, chapter 11: Acquaintances  
  
by Lilian  
  
lilian413@yahoo.com  
  
AN: *rising head from under the rock I've been living in for the past two weeks*. Hi. I hope you're not mad at me for keeping you in suspense for so long. My trip got pushed back due to bad weather, and I've been lurking in the shadows since then.   
  
But I did manage to write this--- I hope you like it!.   
  
R&R, please?.   
  
Oh, for anyone interested, my bday is Feb 23rd--- I accept credit card numbers and happy bday cards... :0.   
  
  
  
********************************  
  
{{January, 7, 2003}}  
  
  
She closed her eyes, and inhaled the clean, crisp air of San   
Francisco.   
  
For the first time in over a year, she was back. And she realized her   
memories were dim, compared to what the sun really felt like and how loud the noise really was.   
  
"Move it, Phax. This ain't no stroll through the park".   
  
Jhiera practically barked at her. Phax opened her eyes, and simply   
nodded. She knew it was wrong, allowing her mind to get distracted like   
that. Demons did not stay in one place for extended periods of time.   
  
They were always on the move.   
  
Besides, so was their victim.  
  
They were at the intersection of Van Ness and McAllister, people   
brushing past them, unknowing and oblivious to their true nature. So consumed   
in their petty little lives, they failed to notice the strange darkness   
that seemed to cling to the two women, even in the sunny morning of   
early January.   
  
The festivities were just gone, and New Year's exhilaration had already   
died, left behind as people resumed their lives, returning to their   
normal, everyday routine.   
  
But they were here on an assignment.   
  
Phax's first.   
  
And as so, Jhiera had come with her, to make sure she didn't 'chicken   
out', in her own words.   
  
She need not fear. Phax was more than ready to do what had to be done,   
in order to win the Source's favor, and be finally able to wander alone   
through the Surface, looking for those she wished to see destroyed.   
  
Jhiera's not so gentle tug on her arm made her turn around, and she   
followed her partner's violet eyes.   
  
There.   
  
Gerald Summers. Bank accountant. Nothing much, as a human being. In   
truth, Phax did not even know why they had been sent after him, but she   
had learned not to question the orders she was given. She   
shrugged Jhiera's arm off her own, and started after the man.   
  
He was short, almost her own size. The first signs of balding   
graced the back of his head, and the thick glasses he wore   
just added to the picture perfect accountant of any bank in any country in   
the world.   
  
There was a suitcase in his right hand, and his left kept traveling   
from his pocket, to his hair, and back to his pocket. He was clearly   
nervous, as he strode through the streets, headed towards work probably.   
  
He had just left the City hall, Phax noticed absentmindedly.   
  
She knew that they had to wait for the proper moment to strike. Attacks   
in public were punished with death--- she knew the consequences of   
exposure.   
  
Jhiera walked by her, silent and focused.   
  
She really wanted to see how Phax would react to her first kill. Sure,   
she had been training for months now, almost a whole year--- but still.   
She was human, as much as she tried to deny it.   
  
Jhiera remembered her first kill. The exhilaration of the kill, the   
adrenaline running through her, the thrill of the hunt... it still sent   
shivers down her spine whenever she remembered it.   
  
So, she was really curious about Phax.   
  
Meanwhile, Phax was trying to keep her eyes on the little man. He moved   
fast for such a pitiful human, and in the morning crowd, rushing to   
their jobs and workstations, it was easy to miss him.   
  
She knew what she had to do.   
  
Knew that in the end, she would have to kill him.   
  
And strangely, a ghost of remorse had been making its way into her   
heart. She had tried to squash it, tried so hard to push it in the back of   
her mind--- but in here, on the Surface, surrounded by people,   
people she had once sworn to protect...  
  
The scent of humanity was intoxicating. The sheer power that ran   
through them, even if they were completely unaware of it, was like a   
drug, and it was making her dizzy.   
  
After an entire year of being the only human in the Underworld, to be   
suddenly surrounded by her own kind, was a shock to her system.   
  
Her breath was coming in short gasps that she tried to keep concealed   
behind the loud hum of the city. Jhiera wasn't listening to her anyway.   
  
She knew this was a trial. Knew this was a test of her loyalty to the   
Source. This is what she had been preparing for the past year--- this   
was what she had worked so hard for... and still, why was it so hard?.   
  
Maybe this man had a family, a home to return to. And she was about to   
terminate that with a swift blast, was going to kill him, incinerate   
him...  
  
"There".   
  
Jhiera's whisper awoke her. And she saw as Gerald Summers took a   
shortcut through a darkened alley, perhaps hoping to save some time.   
  
Idiot.  
  
A feral mile curled Jhiera's lips, and she turned to her companion, and   
saw a flash of uncertainty in her dark eyes.   
  
"Having second thoughts, Witch?".   
  
The nickname was offensive to Phax. And it infuriated her to no end.   
She wasn't a witch anymore--- hadn't been since the second the Source had   
marked her as his. The triangle on her forearm was an everyday   
reminder of what she had accepted, of the darkness she had embraced.   
  
And now was the time to prove it.   
  
"No. Let's do it".   
  
She strode forward, leaving Jhiera behind on purpose.   
  
She went in for the kill.   
  
  
  
*******************************  
  
  
  
Phoebe had always been their connection to the innocents. Phoebe was   
the Seer. She had the premonitions, they went to the place she had seen,   
and saved the day.   
  
But ever since she had died, they had no way of knowing when evil was   
about to strike.   
  
Cole could only sense evil in close vicinity, and Leo was no longer   
allowed in Heaven.   
  
Hence, they had relied on scrying. And the tabloids.   
  
Both excellent ways of knowing when the supernatural was at work. Even   
if the tabloids tended to be a little exaggerated, there was sometimes   
truth behind their stories.   
  
Sometimes.   
  
But today, Piper had decided she had had it with 'my alien baby', and   
'the Pope's a father!' news. So, she sat in front of the San Francisco   
map, the pendant dangling from her fingers, moving in slow, lazy   
circles.   
  
She wasn't really expecting to find anything--- they rarely did these   
days.   
  
But still, something was telling her today might be different.   
  
Just in cue with her thoughts, the pendant dove down, and glued itself   
to a spot in the map. She leaned in, and read the small letters.   
  
Van Ness and McAllister.   
  
She rose, letting the pendant fall from her fingers, and while picking   
up her jacket, she called out to the other occupants of the house.   
  
"Paige, Cole!. We've got work to do!".   
  
Leo came down the stairs, with Prue in his arms.   
  
"Be careful".   
  
Piper smiled at her husband, and kissed his lips, reassuring him.   
  
"We will".   
  
Paige and Cole came down the stairs, ready to vanquish the demon of the   
day. And off they went, to the intersection of Van Ness and   
McAllister... never knowing what lay in store for them.   
  
  
**************************  
  
  
"Your turn, honey".   
  
Jhiera's voice was mocking, knowing Phax was having second thoughts   
about killing their victim. She could see in her eyes, in the way she   
toyed with her hair, in the way she had remained behind while she threw the   
energy ball that had knocked the man unconscious.   
  
"I know".   
  
Phax looked at the man laying at her feet, and something inside of her   
screamed. She didn't want to do this--- she was supposed to protect   
innocents, not kill them!.   
  
She shook her head, and the protest died inside of her.   
  
She wasn't that woman anymore.   
  
She held no responsibility whatsoever over the pitiful man, or over   
anyone else, but herself. But still, she couldn't summon the fireball.   
  
She had been warned it would be harder to call for her power on   
the Surface, where Good dwells... but the difficulties she was   
experiencing were not related to the possible overpowering of Good over Evil.   
  
Or in some way, it did.   
  
She had never killed a human before.   
  
Scratch that. She had *murdered* her own daughter... but that had been   
out of necessity. This was for pleasure. She knew the man held nothing   
of interest for them. He wasn't destined for the greater Good, did not   
hold any earthly possessions they could covet.   
  
She knew, in every fiber of her being, that the only purpose of this   
man's death was to prove her loyalty and her strength.   
  
And that thought made it hard to carry out the orders she had been   
given.   
  
"Phax, move it".   
  
Jhiera was getting restless. Demons never stayed in the mortal's world   
for long--- witches could always scry for them, and whitelighters could   
always feel them. Besides, she hated being up here just to   
baby-sit the new demon-in-training.   
  
Specially when said demon-in-training refused to just kill the stupid   
human!.   
  
"Cut it out, would you?. I'm trying to savor the kill here".   
  
Phax's voice was steady and firm, and she fooled Jhiera. Because it was   
not the thrill of the first kill that was running through her veins...   
it was something almost akin to disgust.   
  
At herself.   
  
Because everything she had done for the past year, was a prelude to   
this.   
  
Was meant for this particular moment, when she would kill an innocent   
man, probably chosen randomly, to make her *kill*.  
  
And she couldn't do it.  
  
Her mind went back to the days in which she had sworn to protect people   
like this. And suddenly she found herself seething with anger.   
  
{Stop it already!. It's because of them you ended up in here in the   
first place. Get it over and done with, all right?}.  
  
She gritted her teeth, and rubbed her temples, fighting off the last   
remnants of humanity, that grew dimmer with each passing day.   
  
And with each breath, she moved closer to what she was supposed to   
become.   
  
When she opened her eyes, ready to strike, she saw out of the corner of   
her eye as Jhiera stretched out her hand, muttering something about   
newbies, and gathering an energy ball in it. It only took her a second to grab her arm in mid motion, and send the energy ball flying into the farthest wall.   
  
"He's mine".   
  
Jhiera's flashing purple eyes locked in on her, and Phax fought back   
the urge to cringe under her probing gaze.   
  
"Really?. Why haven't you killed him then?".   
  
"You never shut up, do you?".   
  
They faced off each other, Jhiera standing taller than Phax, and still,   
the smaller woman holding her ground.   
  
She had gotten pretty powerful in the last few months... she knew that   
soon she would be able to fight Jhiera on fairer grounds. But not   
yet. The she-demon could still knock her down with one hand, and she did   
not want to return bleeding after her first assignment.   
  
"Fine".   
  
She crushed the light in her heart, that cried out in despair as she   
called forth a fireball. She squashed her conscience, or what little was   
left of it, and readied herself to throw the attack.  
  
In the soft morning sun, the fireball shone with an eerie light of its   
own, somehow so out of place in the world of mortals... She looked deep   
into the flame, trying to destroy the last of her qualms with the fire   
that licked her fingertips.   
  
And it seemed to work, because she suddenly found herself not caring   
about what would happen. She needed to do this, and she would.   
  
Taking a deep breath, she threw the fireball.   
  
And she watched with horror as the flames enveloped the limp body of   
the man, and began consuming his flesh. She thanked whoever was watching   
from above that he was unconscious... she wasn't sure she could've   
handled his screaming.   
  
The smell of burnt human flesh filled the alley, and invaded her   
nostrils, forcing her to smell what she had done. She could close her eyes,   
and block the image of the blazes away... but she could not shut down   
her nose, and could not stop her ears from listening to the cricks and   
cracks of bones breaking and melting down.   
  
She looked at Jhiera, standing by her, her eyes fixed on the orange   
flames, reflecting off her eyes and making them shine. She seemed   
enthralled, so focused she was on them.   
  
She turned to look at Phax, and bared her fangs at her.   
  
"Beautiful".   
  
Her whisper was seductive, and most obviously displaying the pleasure   
she felt. The kill was addictive... and even if Phax had now hesitated,   
she would soon feel the bliss of the godlike power she carried, and use   
it without hesitation or scruples.   
  
"Let's go".   
  
Jhiera shimmered away, her stance blurry and shaky, before disappearing   
completely.  
  
But Phax did not follow her.   
  
She stood there, her hair flowing in the morning breeze, her black eyes   
focused on the scorch mark at her feet.   
  
She had killed a man.   
  
She had killed him. In cold blood. Shouldn't she be feeling something?.   
Regret?. Sadness?. Nausea?. But she felt nothing.   
  
Nothing.   
  
She resented the lack of feeling, knowing it was the ultimate   
indication that she was as dead as the demons she had once fought. She had lost   
her ability to feel... and she was grateful. After this, there was   
nothing she could not do.   
  
A wicked smile danced across her tight lips, a smile of yielding.   
  
She rose her eyes up to the sky, and through buildings and   
clotheslines, sought the sky she hadn't seen in over a year. And found it darker,   
different--- her black eyes were not made to experience the joy of the   
skies, of a blue so deep that rivaled with that of the ocean.   
  
And she smirked again.   
  
Fine. The world turned its back on her, she would turn her back on the   
world.   
  
As she prepared to shimmer, a cloud waltzed over the sun, covering the   
alley in shadows. The building loomed over her, their big bodies   
keeping what little light was left outside. She did not care. She closed her   
eyes, calling forth the teleportation magic.   
  
And a voice echoed in the alley, breaking her concentration.   
  
"Oh my God!".   
  
That was the last thing she heard, before the whole alley was frozen.   
  
  
**************************  
  
  
Piper had meant to blow the demon up. She really had. She had spotted a   
dark figure standing in the end of the alley, over black ashes, which   
most certainly indicated a recent burning, that she was betting   
was not a hobo's attempt at warming up.   
  
She had thrown her arms up, fully intending in blowing the bastard up.   
  
Even after a year, she sometimes screwed up.   
  
She ran all the way to the end of the alley, Paige and Cole hot on her   
heels.   
  
Well, *Paige*, hot on her heels. Cole remained behind, something in the   
air striking him as odd. It was--- electrified. Something he hadn't   
felt in a long time. Not since Phoebe---  
  
His trained eyes scanned the alley for further threats. There were   
none. The demon was alone and seemingly just standing there when Piper had   
frozen it. That in itself was strange, since demons did not loose   
their time in contemplation as the world passed them   
by.   
  
The other thing that had him on his toes, was the way he was drawn to   
the dark figure. Something about it called him, demanded he move   
forward, and look at it deeply.   
  
"That's it!. You're dust, buster!".   
  
Piper raised her arm, ready to blast the demon into oblivion, when the   
clouds stopped covering the sun. And the light came back, illuminating   
the dark alley with the hot morning sun, and they were able   
to see the figure in front of them.   
  
"Impossible...".  
  
Paige's silent whisper was the only thing that broke the heavy silence   
that settled on the air. In fact, it seemed the whole world had been   
frozen, as no sounds broke the eerie quiet.   
  
Piper couldn't believe her eyes. She did not want to believe her eyes.   
And yet, there she was, standing in front of her, *frozen*... her baby   
sister. The sister she had deemed lost.   
  
{Phoebe...}  
  
Tears clouded her vision, and she gasped for air, as any and all doubts   
she could have had about Prue's parentage were destroyed, because of   
the living, breathing proof that greeted her eyes.   
  
She knew it was Phoebe. Their sister bond was crying out, roaring in   
her ears, awakening from a year old slumber.   
  
Cole had stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her. His heart had   
stopped beating, and it was suddenly hard to focus.   
  
It was impossible... he had felt their link break, had felt her soul   
dying--- and yet here she was, in front of him.   
  
"Phoebe...".   
  
He moved in, fully intending on gathering her in his arms, to hug the   
life out of her, and to never, ever let go--- when his eyes saw   
something that was not supposed to be there.   
  
She was frozen.   
  
Piper had frozen Phoebe.   
  
And the realization hit him just in time, because Phoebe's form   
blurred, as she fought the temporal stasis. And she broke it.   
  
  
*******************************  
  
  
Phax knew something was wrong when something in the back of her mind   
told her she had just missed a few heartbeats.   
  
Well, that, and the fact that suddenly, there were people in front of   
her.   
  
People that had not been there before, when she had began her shimmer.   
  
And when she took a good look at who was standing in front of her, what   
was left of her heart lurched in her chest, and caught her completely   
by surprise.   
  
Because there--- right there, in front of her, stood the one she had   
grown to hate in the past year.   
  
{Cole...}  
  
The thought sprung forth with such force, it surprised her. Yet, she still had the presence of mind to keep quiet, and biting back her tongue, she pushed it back. She called for his other name, the one she had fought to acknowledge him by.  
  
Belthazor.   
  
She pushed back the dizziness that threatened to grab hold of her, and   
forced herself to smile. And managed to ace it, as   
the grin that curled her lips, was one of unspeakable evil.   
  
"Hello, family".   
  
And she even surprised herself, with the calm and steadiness of her   
voice. Her mind was a turmoil of emotions, emotions she had thought had   
died along with Prue... but here they were, back with a vengeance.   
  
Had she still possessed the ability to cry, hot, wet tears would be   
gathering in her eyes, and threatening to spill down her cheeks.   
  
It was as if someone has stuck a vacuum inside of her, and turned it on   
without warning. And it was destroying every wall she had built around   
herself, every lie she had forced herself to believe.   
  
Her eyes were fixed on the unmoving form of the half-demon, who just looked   
back at her, his eyes unbelieving...   
  
From across the alley, their gazes locked, and sparks seemed to fly, as   
the dormant passion awoke. Because even if she hated him, even if she   
deemed him responsible for the death of the most precious thing she had   
ever held in her arms, it seemed she still lusted for him.   
  
And it seemed so did he.   
  
Her keen eyesight allowed her to see as his breathing increased, and   
his heartbeat accelerated. His hands tightened into fists, and she could   
tell he was having trouble keeping himself in place.   
  
"What, no hug, *lover*?".   
  
Cole took a step back at the hate that practically dripped off her   
voice. And the spell she held over him began to break, as he took in the   
changes she had experienced.   
  
But what struck him the most, what hurt down to the bottom of his   
heart, were her eyes. They had lost their sienna glow, and now looked back   
at him through depths of darkness. Black... they were black. And he knew   
humans did not change eye color.   
  
He drank in her sight, her beloved form, her luscious curves, not one   
ounce out of place, not one trace that she had bore a child. She was   
thinner than he remembered her to be--- but she was still Phoebe!.   
  
Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and stray strands of hair flew   
back and forth, framing her face, forcing him to look deep into her eyes.   
And in them, there was not a trace of the woman he had known, of the   
woman he had fallen in love with.  
  
And still, his body reacted to her, awakening from the slumber it had   
been in ever since their link had been broken.   
  
He consciously told his lungs to keep on breathing, and took a hesitant   
step forward.   
  
"Phoebe?".   
  
Phoebe brushed her hair aside, tucking it firmly behind her ear. Her   
moves were forced and harsh, and Cole realized she was battling her inner   
demons, just as he was doing right now.   
  
"Now that's better, lover. Although I was expecting a warmer welcome".   
  
Piper took that moment to advance forward, and stretch out an uncertain   
hand to her long lost sister.   
  
"You're alive...".   
  
Phoebe's eyes focused on her soft fingers, and watched in silence as   
they drew closer to her, intending to touch her---  
  
In the last second, she shimmered out of the way.  
  
And grinned in devilish pleasure at their astonished gasps.  
  
She reappeared a few feet away, her stance a bit more confident, her   
body language bolder.   
  
"Not quite, *sis*".  
  
It was then that Paige spoke, her voice loud and clear in the silence.   
  
"Piper, Cole, back away. Now".   
  
The two turned to her, their eyes wide and unbelieving.   
  
"What?".   
  
Piper's reply was cut short when Phoebe snorted, as she absently looked   
at her long fingernails.   
  
"The kid is right, witch. Step away before you get burnt".   
  
She refused to look at them, could not bear to look at them--- was it   
humanly possible to be feeling like this?. Relieved, angered, nauseated,   
and overjoyed at the same time?.   
  
It was all so confusing--- she took a deep breath, as she tried to keep   
her emotions in check.   
  
{Come. Now}  
  
The order echoed inside her head, and she trembled unconsciously, still   
uncomfortable with the fact there was a disembodied voice speaking   
directly into her brain.   
  
Fine. She would go back. She ignored the soft whispers in the back of her head   
that mocked her, telling her that she was relieved she was excused   
of this--- meeting.   
  
The Source was calling, and what the Source wanted, the Source got. But   
she would rather deal with him, than with the   
awestruck people that were staring at her right now.   
  
She looked up, and locked gazes with Belthazor.   
  
"We will continue this later, lover".   
  
And she shimmered away, but not before his voice drifted over to her,   
his words ringing like the proverbial Horn of Justice in her ears.   
  
"Like hell we will-- we're finishing this now!".   
  
And even if her heart was frozen inside her chest, their link had awakened, and Phax could feel as he shimmered behind her, following her into the recesess of the Underworld.   
  
  
**************************  
  
  
Tbc... 


	12. Bickering

** Change of Heart **, chapter 12: Bickering  
  
by Lilian  
  
lilian413@yahoo.com  
  
AN: I'm back!!. And with the longest chapter so far!. Jeje, I think my vacations might've inspired me--- I'm already halwfway through chapter 13, so maybe it won't be too long bfore I post that one.   
  
Okay, I've got three things to say:   
  
To Barb. Honey, without I've be lost. For real. I just want to thank you for everything you've done, and dedicate this story to you--- without you, this would've never gotten so far, or so good. *big bear hug*  
  
To Linda, for giving me just the right tip when I needed it. She solved a bunch of problems I was having as I was plotting the next chapters, even if she never really knew about it. Thank you so much!!!. oh, and for those still living under a rock, if you haven't read Linda's (Jolynn) 'Shattered Images', what are you waiting for?. Go!. Now!.   
  
And last, but most certainly not least, to Cindy. That was the longest review I've ever received, and you gave me some vital plot ideas I was lacking so far... I hope you'll have some more comments to share with me after you're done reading this!. *giggle*  
  
So, on we go!!.   
  
  
*****************************  
  
  
  
His world had been turned upside down.   
  
Again.   
  
Just when he had finally come to terms with the death of his soul mate, she appeared back in his life, with a sneer on her beautiful lips, and sarcasm to rival with that of Prue's. The sister. Her sister.   
  
It had been strange, feeling like this when she was around. Back when Prue was alive, her probing gaze and untrusting eyes kept him on his toes all day long, but Phoebe's presence always managed to calm him down.   
  
But now--- he really wasn't thinking straight. He never did, when it came to her. Whenever it came to Phoebe, there was only one thought running through his head, urging him on, and driving him further.   
  
Love her.  
  
That's why he had followed her.   
  
He had thrown caution to the wind, crushed every warning Piper had given him, forgotten that he was no longer welcome in the Underworld, and followed her.   
  
Her shimmer had been easy to track. Aside from the residual magic that hung in the air, their link was slowly mending itself, like pieces of an old puzzle that when thrown onto the ground, find the right place among each other.   
  
And the closer he drew to her, the stronger it got.   
  
But it was different.   
  
It was a different connection--- he was no longer welcome. That much was obvious, if her scornful words in the alley hadn't been enough.   
  
But it wasn't enough.   
  
He needed to know.   
  
He needed--- he wasn't sure what it was that he needed. All he could think about, was her living, breathing body near his, so near and yet so far away, the breach between them going beyond physical distance.   
  
His body *knew* her, recognized her... reacted instinctively, seeking her warmth. But hers--- hers seemed held back, controlled, leashed. But still, even changed, twisted and all *wrong*, it was her.   
  
Phoebe.   
  
His Phoebe.   
  
He could feel her confusion, could feel it coming off her in waves. And beneath the confusion, something else. Something he had never associated with Phoebe before-- hate.   
  
All directed... at him?.   
  
He crushed that train of thought, knowing it would only lead to distraction. She was trying to loose him in between realms, and although he could've followed her just by their link, he wanted to keep an eye on her as long as possible.   
  
Now was not the time for contemplation.   
  
That would came later--- after they talked.   
  
Still, he couldn't help consider the fact that Phoebe was shimmering... *shimmering*!.   
  
That was a demonic power. And his knowledge of the Underworld held several possible answers for this, answers he feared, that he dared not contemplate.  
  
The implications were too much to bear.   
  
He wondered if Piper would kill him when he got back--- if he ever got back from this. Because he had felt the pull of the darkness, the foulness of the air the second they had shimmered into the Underworld.   
  
And he knew the Source could feel him too.   
  
But nothing mattered. Nothing mattered, as long as he got the chance to speak with her, to see her one more time...   
  
He felt her stopping, sensed as her form solidified in a chamber, and he stopped too.   
  
When his surroundings stopped blurring around him, he found himself in a dark chamber, with a few candles lighting the place up, and no signs of occupancy whatsoever.   
  
And there she was.   
  
Facing away from him, her back taut, her stance tight, as if ready to bolt any second now.   
  
And he was speechless, completely at a loss of words, when her presence became real, and she was *there*---  
  
His head was spinning, and his breath was coming in short gasps, that reverberated across the empty grotto. If in weariness from the continuous shimmering, or simple amazement at her breathtaking form, he could not say.   
  
Probably a combination of both.   
  
"What do you want?".   
  
Her voice was low and strained, as if she was fighting to keep the tears in check.   
  
He had trouble speaking, his brain disconnected from his mouth. The only thing that came out was a throaty whisper, a word he hadn't said in a long time, and that now came back to him in a rush.  
  
"Phoebe...".  
  
He was surprised to see her stiffening at her name. As if it brought back memories she did not want to remember. As if it brought her pain and recollections that anguished her to no end.   
  
"No".   
  
He took a step forward, trying to reach her, to break through the bubble she had built around herself.   
  
And she turned quickly, her eyes shinning, her teeth bared, and her right hand pointing at his chest. In a quick move, so fast Cole could barely follow it, a fireball appeared in her hand.   
  
"Don't you dare *move*!".   
  
He stopped dead in his tracks, surprised.   
  
"How did you--".   
  
His question was cut short, as she snickered spitefully.   
  
"This?. You want to know how I can summon fireballs?. Or how I can shimmer. Uh?. After a year apart, is that all you can ask?".  
  
He felt every word she spoke like a dagger to his heart. There was powerful hate behind her voice, and it struck him deeply, awakening the ghost of failure he had kept at bay for so long now.   
  
"I don't---".   
  
She waved her hand around, the fireball lighting up her face with the eerie light, and making the shadows dance around her.   
  
"Exactly!. You didn't!. Now tell me why I shouldn't kill you right where you stand".   
  
He took a deep breath, and gathered his thoughts, that were running around his head like loose cattle.   
  
"We should get out of here".   
  
He had to get her out of here--- out of the darkness, away from Evil. She was a figure of Light, had always been. She wasn't supposed to be down here. Then why was it that the darkness seemed to welcome her, like a long lost child, as a mother does with her prodigal daughter?.  
  
Phoebe smiled at him, and it was such a terrifying sight, he took a step back. That wasn't Phoebe's smile... her smile was pure, and bright, and spoke of passion and fire and *life*!. What was this mask, this puppet, that conveyed hatred so deep?.   
  
"We?. There hasn't been a *we* for a very long time, Belthazor".  
  
Cole held his breath, hurt by the nasty tone of her voice, and the special care she took in using his demonic name. Belthazor?. Why was she addressing him by his alter ego?. How he longed to hear his name, his human name, come out of her ruby-red lips, like it had once before, a long time ago...  
  
"Phoebe, I mean it".   
  
He took a step forward, fully intending to gather her in his arms and force her away with him if need be. He never got that far. A flash of light zinged by his side, and a sudden burst of pain blazed in his right arm. The smell of burnt clothing permeated the air, and he bit back the grunt of pain that threatened to leave his lips.   
  
One look down his arm, and his fears came true.   
  
The fireball was no longer dancing atop of Phoebe's fingers, but burning away on the wall behind him, while his coat *and* shirt's sleeves had been reduced to ashes. The fire had barely grazed the skin--- he had felt it caressing the flesh of his upper arm, and the redness was already spreading around it, indicating abused nerve endings.   
  
"I warned you. Leave. I won't miss next time'.   
  
Cole gritted his teeth, fighting for dominance. In here, in the Underworld, Belthazor strove for control and especially now, when his body had been compromised. He refused to change, though. He wasn't sure he would be able to change back if he did. And Phoebe had never been too fond of his demonic self.  
  
"Why?".   
  
This time, her smile was joyful, and her fangs shone in the candlelight. Had they gotten longer since the last time they had seen each other?.  
  
"Because I want to kill you".   
  
He remained silent, shocked beyond belief. She wanted to kill him?. Never, not even when he had strayed off the path of Good, when he had killed Jenna, had she wanted to end his life. What was so different now, that changed her so?.   
  
"I thought you were dead...".  
  
It was barely a whisper, barely a breath, and he hadn't really intended for it to be vocal. It was a lament, meant only for himself.  
  
But it came out, and her eyes hardened at the words.  
  
"How convenient. This happened before or after you screwed her?".   
  
He raised an eyebrow at this. What was she talking about?.   
  
"Forget it, I don't want to know".   
  
As her words settled in, and registered into his tired brain, footsteps echoed in the chamber. And the look in Phoebe's eyes, scared, haunted, *lost* was too much to bear.   
  
"Leave, now!".   
  
There was a plea in her voice, and for a split second, he could actually picture the Phoebe he had known, in this shell that carried her voice and her scent.   
  
"I won't leave you alone in here".   
  
It was such a sudden change--- she was cold one second, pleading the next. What was going on?. Why did he feel as if the truth had just brushed past him, and he had completely missed it?. But still, his words did not change her answer.   
  
"Fine. What do I care...".   
  
He walked up to her again, and stretched out his hand, willing himself to restrain her, and shimmer her back to the Surface, away from this stench, were maybe he could talk some sense into her--- he was pulled back, as a physical force held him where he stood.   
  
He grunted, as he felt the pull of the Charmed One's calling him. Soon, a white curtain separated him from Phoebe, keeping them away, keeping them apart. He fought it, fought it with every ounce of strength he had left in his tired body.   
  
"Piper, no!".   
  
He watched, helpless, as Phoebe's form blurred away, and the Underworld changed, shifted, taking him away from her.   
  
"Phoebe!".   
  
He stretched out his hand at her, hoping she would take it, and they would both be teleported away, to safety, to the Surface--- she made no move to approach him.   
  
And that hurt Cole more than her words and her fireball.   
  
Because it meant Phoebe was gone, really gone.   
  
She didn't trust him anymore.   
  
  
********************************  
  
  
Phax was being torn apart by two sides of her heart. One clamored in happiness, as the Witches' call took him away from her, saving him from whoever was approaching. The other, was screaming in anger, and demanding an answer on why hadn't she killed him.   
  
Why hadn't she, really?.   
  
He was there, vulnerable, unbelieving... she would never get another chance like this one. And still, she hadn't moved. She had stood there, admiring his chiseled features, drinking in his appearance, something she hadn't done in quite a while.  
  
The anger was still there, the hate still bubbled inside of her--- but it seemed the embers of their love still burned inside of her. It seemed the fire was still blazing, still burning, threatening to escape.   
  
When she had first seen him, standing, a few feet away from her, proud and powerful, reeking of confidence, she had cursed the Gods above for her luck. She knew she wasn't ready--- both physically *and* mentally.   
  
She was by no means a worthy opponent on the battlefield--- much less on the emotional one. His presence had brought such a mighty blow to her psyche that she had had to consciously tell herself not to pant, in a futile attempt to bring oxygen to her lungs.   
  
She had gone up, to the Surface, with one simple mission in mind: kill an innocent. And then, everything had gone to hell, and they were there, and she didn't know what to do, and she had simply lashed out at them, like a caged animal.   
  
And the look in his eyes, desperate, unbelieving--- she had hid her troubled mind behind mocking words and sarcasm, hoping, *needing* for him to go away. But he had remained where he was, looking at her as if she was this--- this circus freak, and she was getting nervous.   
  
And then, the youngest Witch (she refused to pronounce their names--- it would mean acknowledging a past she was still fighting to bury) had spoken. And her words had carried a veiled threat in them, and the understanding of Phax's new condition.   
  
The Witch had felt the changes in her, much sooner and quicker than Belthazor or the Older Witch. She still didn't know what would've happened if the Source hadn't called her when he did. She had welcomed the call, knowing a way out when it presented itself to her.   
  
And she had shimmered away, pleased, even joyful, that she would not have to deal with them anymore--- stupid, so stupid!.   
  
Of course he would follow her. To mock her, to laugh at her, to make fun of everything she had worked so hard to accomplish!.   
  
She had wanted to kill him, she really had. The logical side of her knew that if she didn't kill him, the Source would kill her. But she hadn't been able to. She had tried, the fireball in her hand---   
  
But still, once human, always human. Or at least, human qualities remained. And something inside of her lurched, when she realized he had come after her, had endangered his own life to follow her.   
  
Her hands became fists, tight against her thighs.   
  
She had been trained to be impossibly accurate. She never missed, period. She could hit a fly at a hundred feet... she had done it before. But she had missed with him.   
  
God, why was it so damned hard?.   
  
She had been tempted to accept his offer, to go with him, to escape--- his voice clouded her thinking, his body was too close, too near, and she had really considered stretching out her hand, touching his, just to feel his skin under her fingers one more time...  
  
{Cole}  
  
There it was again. Her heart was dead, she was evil, and still, his name felt good. She cursed under her breath, trying to ignore the song inside of her that had been going on ever since she had seen him again.   
  
Had she really been willing to go with him?.   
  
The answer struck her hard, and created a crack in the armor she had built around herself.   
  
Yes.   
  
Yes, she had been this close to taking his hand, and leaving this place--- the Source and his power over her be damned. But the image of the Oldest Witch wrapped around Belthazor, kissing, in such an intimate contact that it could not be mistaken for simple friendship came back to haunt her, and her resolve strengthened.   
  
This was the bastard that had forced her to kill her daughter.   
  
{my Prue}  
  
And he had to pay for that.   
  
Why did it bother her so?. Wasn't she over him?. Wasn't she ready to kill him, ready to punish him for what he had done to her, and her daughter?.   
  
{you forget she was his daughter too...}  
  
The derisive voice in the back of her head came back with a vengeance, preying on her weaknesses, and exposing them to her, without masks or disguises. It had been her endless companion, never sleeping, never stopping, never ending. It was always there, in the back of her head.   
  
"Shut up!".   
  
The voice died, leaving her alone.   
  
Funny. She was supposed to be a demon now. Demons lacked a consciousness. Why did hers pester her, then?.   
  
She had very little time to think about all of this, before Jhiera strode into the chamber, her eyes flashing with barely contained anger, and even a tinge of fear.   
  
"You!. What the hell did you think you were doing?".   
  
Phax scooped up the last of her pride, forced it up together, battered and bruised as it was, and spat an answer back at Jhiera.   
  
"Nothing that should matter to you".   
  
Jhiera's wrath was not an easy storm to face. Phax had learned that the hard way. But she was too riled up to keep her temper in check. Besides, she could tell she wasn't just angry, she was terribly afraid. That meant someone else knew about all of this---  
  
"It matters all right!. This is *my* neck on the line, girlfriend!".   
  
Oh, so that's what this stunt was all about. Jhiera was worried the Source would kill her if he ever found out she had shimmered away, leaving his most precious assassin-to-be alone up on the Surface...  
  
"Why did you wait?. You know witches can scry for us!".   
  
Phax turned her back on the older demon, and made a move to shimmer away to her quarters. She really, really needed some time alone now.   
  
"Can it, all right?. I'm not in the mood for your hissy fits".   
  
But before she could teleport away (her shimmering kept getting interrupted these days, it seemed), another form shimmered into the chamber. And Jhiera quieted immediately, and bowed respectfully, as the Source himself appeared between her and her rogue trainee.   
  
"My Lord".   
  
Her tone carried such an amount of fear that the Source could not help but be pleased. Besides, she was still useful--- good upper level demons were scarce these days, and Jhiera was one of his finest assets. That's why he wasn't going to kill her--- yet.   
  
"Leave us".   
  
Jhiera glared daggers at Phax, and a look that promised death if she spilled, and teleported away.   
  
She needn't have worried. Phax was many things, and would be many more, but a traitor she was not. She knew she was the only one to blame for this, and would take the full brunt of the punishment by herself.   
  
When the last traces of the she-demon disappeared into the stagnant air of the Underworld, silence settled on the chamber, as Phax felt the Source's piercing eyes fixed on her. But she remained silent, knowing that there were no words appropriate enough to excuse her for what she had done.   
  
And then the pain came.   
  
The energy ball struck her square in the chest, and sent her flying against the farthest wall. She grunted in pain, and bit her lip, tasting her own blood. But she did not scream. She would not scream.   
  
"I do not let betrayal go unpunished, Witch".   
  
She kept her eyes down, knowing that if she dared to look up, it would only anger him further. The best way to escape alive from the Source's anger, was to remain quiet, and to be as meek as possible.   
  
"You compromised everything".   
  
Another energy ball hit her, slamming her hard against the rocks holding her up. Her skull crashed against the stone, and she felt one of her ribs crack under the pressure of the magic.   
  
"You let them see you".   
  
His mind tendrils scooped her up, and dragged her towards him. Something hot, wet and sticky was running down her neck--- she was betting it was blood. And still, she remained silent.   
  
"You let him follow you down here".   
  
A black fingernail slowly caressed the mark on her forearm, and pain erupted within her, and this time, she did scream.   
  
It was what the Source wanted. He relished in pain, and this woman's cries of anguish were especially sweet to him.   
  
"You let him escape unscathed".   
  
She slumped down, as the Source's telekinesis dropped her. Her mouth tasted dirt, and with the blood, it made a particularly nasty mix.   
  
"Tell me one reason, one good reason, as to why I should not kill you".   
  
She struggled up, and spit out the foul mixture invading her mouth. She cleaned her lips with the back of her sleeve, and looked up at the Source, through ruffled hair and sweat.   
  
"I--- I can still kill them".   
  
The harsh laughter that erupted from the darkness of the Source's hood was deafening to her ears, but she was too tired to cover them.   
  
"Not good enough".   
  
Next thing she knew, she was flying across the air, her body completely out of her control, and she had barely a second to brace herself for the impact. When it came, it was hard, harder than she had expected--- the Source was keeping her pushed against the rock, forcing her soft skin against the abrasive surface.   
  
It wasn't long before the Source released her, and she fell down, but to her it seemed like ages. Coughing, fighting back the tears of agony, she tried again.   
  
"I won't fail again. I will train harder".   
  
As she tried to rise from the ungraceful heap she had become on the floor, the Source floated up to where she was, and looked down at her, as one looks at a cowering mouse in the kitchen corner.   
  
"Yes you will. I will not be so forgiving next time".  
  
He shimmered away, leaving her there, bleeding, crying, suffering--- it would be a long time before she would be able to fight again. Or even walk properly. She tried to move, tried to stand up, but it was useless.   
  
She wasn't even strong enough to shimmer herself into her quarters.   
  
Somehow, the pain of the shame hurt more than any wound the Source had inflicted upon her. The fact that she had failed, that she had been unable to control her feelings, and had hesitated like a teenager on her first date... she was a demon, damn it!.   
  
She cried silently, refusing to let other demons notice her broken body lying in the corner.   
  
Next time, next time she would be prepared. She would push away all the remnants of humanity that still clung to her to like a disease, forcing her to feel things she did not want to, experiencing rushes she did not need, and making her weak.   
  
She vowed, that next time, *they* would be the ones bleeding.   
  
Not her.   
  
Never her.   
  
  
***********************************  
  
  
".... bring us the demon Belthazor here!".   
  
Piper had had the presence of mind to drive back to the Manor before calling the missing demon. But that was all she was able to do, as her mind was a turmoil of things, of thoughts and memories and images and flashes, all coming together and splitting apart, making it hard to think.   
  
Phoebe was alive.   
  
Cole had gone after her.   
  
She had frozen Phoebe.   
  
Paige felt Phoebe was evil.   
  
She took a deep breath, and tried to calm her thoughts. It didn't work.   
  
As her words died down, she waited for the small white tornado to appear. For a few seconds, nothing happened, and an icy hand squeezed her heart. Was he dead?. Had they been too late?. She knew she wouldn't be able to handle another death in the family, another loss... not now, not when everything was upside down, and she was on the edge of insanity.   
  
{Phoebe...}  
  
Wind began picking up, and she leaned back into Leo's arms, relieved. He was alive.   
  
Because the spell wouldn't be bringing them a dead body, right?.   
  
Right?.   
  
The magic was unstable, though. Cole was resisting it--- the windstorm trashed back and forth, and threatened the integrity of the living room's furniture.   
  
When he did settle down, and the wind stopped blowing, there was a bewildered look in his eyes, as if he did not believe what he had just seen. He sighed loudly, but before he could shimmer away again, Paige spoke, knowing they only had a second before he disappeared.   
  
"Cole, wait".   
  
The half demon stopped, but remained taut and ready to finish the shimmer the second Paige stopped speaking. In fact, the only reason he had stopped in the first place was because Paige's tone carried a warning in it. And, out of respect for the friendship they had developed in the past year.   
  
But mostly, because he realized they could call him back whenever they wanted to--- he probably wouldn't make it halfway down there, before the white magic forced him back, and brought him back to the manor.   
  
"What?. She's down there, Paige. She's *alive*".   
  
His voice, full of a hope they had not heard in a long time, struck a deep chord in all of them.   
  
Paige gritted her teeth, and gathered her wits. Her heart reached out to him, but she knew he needed to hear this, needed to face it. He was in clear denial.   
  
Back in the alley, when Phoebe had first unfrozen herself, the whitelighter inside of Paige had warned her. Her senses had flared up, roaring in her ears, deafening her. And she had fought against it, trying to make that half of her realize that the woman that was standing in front of them was her sister, not the demon of the day.   
  
But then Phoebe had shimmered, and her doubts were erased.   
  
And she had tried to warn them, tried to make them walk away--- and then things had done to hell. Phoebe had shimmered away, and Cole had followed her. She had considered orbing to the Underworld herself, and dragging him back to the Surface... but as impulsive as she was in her youth, there was also an amount of hard logic that keep her rooted on the spot.   
  
She had dragged Piper with her, back to the car, back to the Manor, were she had broken the news to an awed Leo, as Piper recited the spell to bring Cole back.   
  
And now it was her job to keep him here, to stop him from going after the only woman he had ever loved.   
  
She cursed under her breath. Of all the things to do this week...   
  
"She's not herself, Cole".   
  
That was the understatement of the century. But still, when she vocalized it, it made it all the more palpable, all the more *real*, and for a split second, she wished she had remained silent.   
  
But then her temper kicked in, and she decided this was not a time for the 'what if's... Cole needed to hear the truth, needed for it to slap him in the face, and wake him up from the Phoebe-trance he had dived into.   
  
Cole looked away from her, anywhere but at her, at them, at the people he had grown to call a family--- ashamed to look into their eyes, afraid of what he might find in them.   
  
Pity.   
  
"I know that".   
  
He did indeed know that. His stinging arm was enough proof. He had been within inches of her, just a few feet away, so close, so damn close---  
  
His voice trembled right at the end of the sentence, as if his tight control over his feelings faltered for a split second.   
  
"You don't understand, Cole. She's *evil*---".  
  
"Paige, stop".   
  
Piper's low whisper was enough to placate the youngest Witch, as she was this close to starting a diatribe that would've most certainly thrown Cole over the edge he careened towards ever since this morning.   
  
"You followed her, didn't you?".   
  
Somehow, Piper's calm question hurt Cole much more than Paige's tantrum-to-be. Because in the hushed voice she spoken in, he could read the pain, and the anger, and the sadness--- because they mirrored his own.   
  
"Yeah".   
  
The soft-spoken eldest sister sighed loudly, and sought support in Leo's body behind hers. She felt a small warm body nestling against her shoulder, and smiled sadly when Prue giggled in her ear.   
  
"To where?".   
  
Everyone knew the answer to that. It was as obvious as saying that the snow is white, and that the sky is blue. But they needed to hear it, needed to listen to the words reverberating in the old house, confirming the truth.   
  
"Hell".   
  
Piper closed her eyes, and fought back the tears. Paige just looked away, her brows furrowed in discomfort. She had mixed feelings about this--- she hated it that Piper hushed her, hated it that she hadn't trusted her enough to deal with Cole. But at the same time, she understood, she knew what all of this was about. She knew that Piper and Cole were closer than she was with the half-demon, and that Piper would have a better chance at breaking through to him than she had.   
  
Leo held her wife close, and drank in her scent, as Cole's hands became fists, and he tried to keep the demon in him in check. It was hard... with emotions running so high, and sadness soaking the room, Belthazor threatened to spurt forward, to do what he did not dare.   
  
Vent.   
  
There was only one thing keeping him human... Phoebe's spiteful words. The demon name he had come to accept (or so he thought), up until Phoebe had awakened a different kind of hate in him.   
  
He really had thought he had conquered the demon. He really did. Because never, in all the long year they had spent apart, had Belthazor fought so hard, and almost won. It seemed the very woman he had tried to renounce his demonic-half for, was the one that awoke the demon in him in the first place.   
  
He sunk into the nearby couch, and hid his face in his hands. Gods, it was so hard!. The tempest inside of him was running strong, and now, all of this, and the silence, and the quiet, and the commiseration in their eyes---  
  
"We might have a chance".   
  
Paige's voice came out of nowhere, as she turned back to face them, and the spark of an idea danced across her eyes.   
  
"What do you mean?".   
  
Piper never moved from within Leo's arms, but her question hung in the air, waiting for an answer that Paige fought to make vocal.   
  
"Phoebe is alive, right?. That means there's still hope!. Maybe-- maybe we could create a spell to call her here, and maybe, I don't know, tie her down, and reason with her, change her back!".   
  
Paige was young, and had been at this Charmed duty for far less time than Piper or Leo. That's why she still kept hope, and refused to accept that Phoebe was just lost to them. And it was that faith that saved them all.   
  
Leo craned his head to look down at his wife, remembering a conversation very similar to this one that they had some time ago. And in her eyes he saw a flicker of hope, and the realization that as long as Phoebe was alive, then they could still do something!.   
  
Cole remained sitting, silently clutching his injured arm to his side, and biting his bottom lip. Everything was happening so fast, one thing after the other, and he hadn't had the time to really think about anything.   
  
He needed to go down there, needed to find Phoebe!.   
  
She was alive!.   
  
{But she's also evil...}  
  
The thought presented itself to him with such sudden clarity, that in an automatic response, his fingers clutched his wounded arm tighter, and he grunted in pain.   
  
Yeah, she was evil.   
  
The demon in him had recognized kin. The darkness in him had welcomed her own, even after bathing in Good for over a year now.   
  
And she was also a demon. She could shimmer, and throw fireballs, as his stinging arm was proof of.   
  
There was a part of him (that he fought every day since he had turned to the good side, ever since he had fallen in love with Phoebe), that rejoiced in the idea of her being evil.   
  
He squashed it quickly, his own words coming back to haunt him.   
  
'we can't both be evil...'  
  
Destiny, it seems, is not without a sense of irony. He had tried so hard, so damned hard to be good, for her, all because of *her*, to be with her...   
  
And just when he was accomplishing it, just when things were going down the right path, she was taken away from him, and turned...   
  
The tables themselves were turned now. He was good (as good as he could ever hope to be), and Phoebe was evil.   
  
Evil.   
  
Strange, the word had a foul taste in his mouth, as he spoke it along with Phoebe's name.   
  
What was the use then?. What was the use of all of this?. Of all the pain, and the suffering, and the sheer *agony*, if things did not look up?. He closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts, trying to keep them focused.   
  
A soft coo interrupted him, and he looked up, and watched with the ghost of a smile as Prue stretched out her arms to him, and seemingly tried to speak.   
  
"Dada".   
  
His heart reached out to her, and he realized that this little girl, this little baby girl, made everything worth it. Everything.   
  
Every single thing.   
  
Because she was the result of his and Phoebe's love, in a time where things were better, and they still thought the future held happiness for them.   
  
Leo tenderly disentangled himself from Piper's embrace, and moved in to put Prue in Cole's lap. The baby seemed happy about it, and clapped her hands in merriment.   
  
But then, her blue eyes landed on Cole's burnt upper arm, and a frown clouded her pretty face.   
  
"Bubu".   
  
It was a low whisper, and if Cole didn't know Prue was still too little to really understand what was going on around her, he could've sworn the baby knew every single thing that had transpired between him and Phoebe.   
  
"Yeah, honey. Daddy has a little bubu. It'll be gone in no time".   
  
He nuzzled his nose against hers, but still, the frown in Prue's petite features did not fade. It was as if she was trying really hard to say something, and she just couldn't find the words...   
  
"Mama".   
  
Cole froze in his spot, his own eyes locked against Prue's. And for a split second, in those eyes raged a storm like no other he had seen before, and he could feel the knowledge pouring out of them, and he got a blurred glimpse of what she would one day become---  
  
He pulled away, gasping. When he recovered his breath, he looked back at Prue's still form. The eyes of a four month old, clear, innocent, naive, greeted his questioning stare. It was as if it had all been his imagination, a trick of his tired mind...  
  
"Did you see that?".   
  
Leo turned to look at him, from the spot behind him where he was comforting a still shaken Piper. And in his eyes there was wonder, as to why the older man seem so agitated all of a sudden.   
  
"See what?".   
  
It was clear they had heard and seen nothing. And Cole didn't feel like explaining it, not just yet. He shook his head, dismissing the questions that were coming his way.   
  
"Nothing".   
  
As he turned back, his eyes caught Paige's. And in then, he saw the same awe that danced across his own.   
  
  
**********************************  
  
  
Paige had gotten a glimpse of what Cole had seen. It had been a coincidence--- she had just looked down at Cole, to tell him something, when she looked into Prue's eyes, and was scared of what she saw.  
  
Prue's eyes were locked in an unresposive stare, reflecting a storm raging inside those blue orbs.   
  
She had seen Phoebe when she got a premonition. And Prue's expression mirrored her mother's--- Prue had other powers besides shimmering!.   
  
Cole raised a questioning eyebrow, and Paige slowly nodded, unsure if her eyes were playing tricks on her. She sat beside him, and Prue gurgled at her. She then attempted to crawl off Cole's lap and onto hers. Paige let her, and softly spoke to the shaken man next to her.  
  
"She has premonitions".   
  
It seemed the young girl did not suffer from the pain that accompanied Phoebe's visions. Or the body displacement that Phoebe experienced every time a vision slipped into her brain. It was probably due to her demonic heritage--- she was stronger than the average human.  
  
Cole looked at his daughter, watched as she tried to make her way down Paige's lap and into the floor. Seemingly, Prue understood that Paige was smaller than he was, and that it would be easier to crawl off her, that it would be to do so off him.   
  
He smiled, as her pretty scrunched face, tight with concentration wrong for a baby as small as she was, reminded him of Phoebe. The same cheeks, the same mouth--- and his eyes.   
  
"Makes you wonder what she sees".   
  
Cole scooped Prue up, and held her close. The baby protested a little, upset that she was being interrupted. But, she settled down in Cole's arms, and cooed happily, recognizing her father.   
  
"She saw Phoebe".   
  
It was strange, talking about her so detachedly. But he had no choice.   
  
"We'll call her. She has to come. We might be able to talk some sense into her then".   
  
A hesitant hand rested atop Cole's shoulder, and Paige's blood-red fingernails immediately lured Prue away from Cole's face.   
  
"I know. It's just--- I never expected this".   
  
Leo and Piper sat across them, having seemingly followed the entire exchange between them, and a worried look in their eyes.   
  
"None of us did".   
  
Silence settled on the room, blanketing the air with its unseeing weight, broken only by Prue's occasional gurgle and soft-spoken attempts at speaking.   
  
They had many things to do--- they had to call Phoebe. They would have to summon her... and time was running out. But they needed to sit down, needed to collect their thoughts.   
  
If the confrontation that loomed in the air was as cataclysmic as they felt it would be, then they would need this time of quiet. They wouldn't be having any for a long, long time.   
  
  
*****************************  
  
  
Phax had been lying on the floor for some time now. She couldn't really say how long, but it felt like a century. The Source had told her once, that time pasted differently in the Underworld. That time moved slower in Hell.   
  
One day spent in the Underworld, could be at least a week on the Surface.  
  
When she had been pregnant, time had changed for her--- she suspected the work of Tempus. And all because of her... a sad smile curled her lips, and she grunted as it stung. She had a split lip.   
The baby needed a normal gestation period, and her human body couldn't adjust to the changes while she was pregnant. But after Prue had been born (she ignored the flash of pain that erupted in her heart), time had resumed it's normal flow.   
  
She still had trouble coming to terms with it... especially now, when her whole body was hurting.   
  
The Source's healing powers were taking their time, probably because the damage was so extensive, so big, it would still take days for her to heal.   
  
Some time ago (hours?. Days?. Months?), she had shimmered to her room, avoiding confrontation with all the demons that roamed through the halls, waiting to pounce on her.   
  
And there she had remained, alone, forgotten, trying her best to remain still.   
  
She had been fighting consciousness, lapsing into restless sleep several times, where nightmares plagued her thoughts, and made her wake up screaming and crying. Ghosts of her past and present loomed in the air around her, and she could almost feel them laughing at her, mocking her...  
  
The Source's sneer.   
  
The kiss.   
  
The murder of her daughter.   
  
The betrayal of her family.   
  
It all danced across her eyes, mixing, fusing, and becoming twisted versions of the truth, fueled by the magic running through her.   
  
That was why she could only moan when she felt another magic settling upon her.   
  
White magic.   
  
The Witches' magic.   
  
She tried to call the Source, to let him know what was happening. But she thought better, and remained silent. She had failed once.   
  
She wouldn't do it again.   
  
She would prove it to him that she wasn't a waste of time.  
  
She closed her eyes, and willed the room to stop spinning. The magic was ripping her apart--- it battled with the darkness flowing through her, with the mark upon her forearm.   
  
She was afraid.   
  
Afraid that she would freeze up again. As much as she vowed to herself she wouldn't, she knew better. She knew that it would be hard--- harder than most things she had done so far.   
  
But it was for the better.   
  
If she screwed this up, the Source would kill her--- or worse. She had heard tales, rumors about what tortures the Source inflicted upon those who failed him. And death seemed appealing, compared to those poor jerks' destinies.   
  
She cried out, as the white magic overpowered the dark for a split second, and her body dissolved in a flurry of white, as wind blew the sheets away from her bed, and danced across the now empty room.   
  
Phax was on her way to the Surface.   
  
  
**************************************  
  
  
Tbc... 


	13. Caller Interruptus

** Change of Heart **, chapter 13: Caller Interruptus  
  
by Lilian.  
  
lilian413@yahoo.com  
  
AN: So, finally college stopped eating my free time away, and I was able to finish this. Sorry to keep you waiting for so long guys, but you know how real life can get. I sure hope chapter 14 will be out sooner than it took me to write this one...   
  
This chapter is dedicated to Maggie, who made me realize that things can always be played out another way. A hug to you, girl!.  
  
Read & Review!  
  
  
  
******************************  
  
  
The world around her was a blur of things. There was no up, no down, no left, no right--- she could feel herself splitting up, and reshaping again in a different place.   
  
For some reason, it hurt.   
  
Something in her resisted the call, perhaps the black magic in her veins, perhaps her own psyche... she couldn't tell for sure. But her blood was boiling; rebelling against the white magic that was drawing her to the Surface.   
  
Through half-closed eyelids, she watched with curiosity as things began taking shape around her--- a white mist covered everything, and it was as if looking through a dirty glass... nothing's clear, nothing's defined, and yet, if you squint your eyes hard enough, you can make out some shapes and forms.   
  
As if a beacon in the darkness, she saw four figures standing there, in the middle of the vortex that whirlpooled around her.   
  
It was them.   
  
Panic grabbed hold of her, and she tried to trash around, to free herself from the magic---   
  
She could see him now, could see his deep scorching blue eyes, drilling holes in her, even from the distance, even in the middle of the teleportation. And she had to look away, she *had* to, but she couldn't--- for the life of her, she couldn't.   
  
She lost herself in his eyes, swam in their cerulean depths, and for a split second, she wanted to go there, wanted to be with them. Maybe it was all a mistake.  
  
Maybe they had never left her--- she had been mistaken about worse things before.   
  
Weakened by the blood loss and the emotional toll of the last few days, the idea didn't seem so bad...  
  
Phax saw as Cole's lips formed one word, and that word alone was enough to make her recoil back within herself, barricaded behind hatred and anger.   
  
'Prue'.   
  
Even if he was talking about her sister, it brought back to her the fresh, bleeding memory of her baby girl. Of her little body, cuddled against her breast, of her blue eyes, looking around with innocence only babies possess--- dead.   
  
She was dead.   
  
{Return}  
  
The word rang in her ears like thunder, and she flinched at the sheer strength behind it.   
  
And suddenly, she was spiraling down again, away from them, away from the Surface, and into the darkness... had she eaten something in the past day, she would've thrown up. As it was, she only hiccuped and retched, her body desperately trying to adjust to the sudden change of environment.   
  
When a sickly gust of wind hit her cheeks and blew around her, she realized she was back.   
  
Sweating and panting, she opened her eyes, which she hadn't even realized were closed, and heaved harshly, trying to recover the lost oxygen.   
  
She was back in her quarters.   
  
There was no one around, no one visible at least, but she knew who had interrupted the summoning. And she didn't know whether to thank him or hate him---  
  
As her vision stopped spinning, and her heartbeat calmed down inside her chest, she lay back on the bed, ignoring the rustled sheets and the dried blood--- she had too many things on her mind. Too many things to think about.   
  
She had mixed feelings about what had just happened.  
  
She was beyond relieved, glad that once again, the Source had stopped them, glad that something else had taken the choice away from her.   
  
She wasn't sure what her choice would be, if the occasion ever arose. A few days ago, she would've told any and all willing to listen that she would jump at the opportunity to fight them, to hurt them--- but that was before seeing him again.   
  
Seeing them again.   
  
She wasn't sure why she was feeling this way... she hated them, she knew she did. But old habits die hard, and empowered by their presence, by their faces, no longer clouded behind a curtain of time, but fresh and alive, right there in front of her---   
  
Her body was demanding its rest, still in the last throes of the healing process, and still broken and bleeding in a million other ways. Her veins still burned, her blood still boiled. she had always wondered why demons were so angry whenever they were summoned.   
  
She understood now.   
  
The white magic repelled their own black one, and it was like dragging an unwilling horse up a rocky road--- if the dragger doesn't give up (which magic rarely did. Once unleashed, it keeps pulling and pulling till the task it was called for is completed), the horse *will* go up the hill. But its nose will be bloody and frothy, its legs just itching to kick at something...  
  
And in between the weariness settling in her bones, in between the darkness that threatened to consume her, and as her vision blurred and the thundering of her own blood echoed in her head, there still hung the question.   
  
What would've happened if the Source hadn't stopped them?.   
  
What if she had made it up there, to the Surface?.   
  
It was tiring, to keep hatred up for this long. Without any fuel to add at it, hatred cools down like a hot pan left unwatched in the kitchen. Prue's death was more her fault than theirs--- as far as she knew, they hadn't even known about her pregnancy.   
  
Sure, they had left her for dead, forgotten about her, left her to die in the Underworld, under the Source's clutches--- but, couldn't it be that somehow, some way, they didn't know?.   
  
She grunted as all the thoughts running through her head meshed up in one big pile of confusion.   
  
A lone image jumped in front of everything, and she gritted her teeth, and fisted her hands until she drew blood.   
  
The kiss.   
  
She could come up with a lot of plausible explanation for pretty much everything that had happened--- could blame it on human failure, on mistaken timing, on lost hope--- but nothing, *nothing* could ever excuse the kiss.   
  
She hissed out loud, as the hurt and the pain and the anger came back in an unnatural rush--- had it been just seconds ago she had been this close to forgiving them?. Had she really been willing to accept all of this as a mistake, and not the betrayal it was?  
  
{Must've hit my head too hard}.   
  
She blamed the momentary lapse on the beating she had suffered, and her tired body trying to get the rest it so needed.   
  
It never occurred to her, that for the last year or so, she hadn't been alone in her head. That she hadn't thought those thoughts...  
  
There was someone else in there with her...  
  
  
********************  
  
  
Dogs see things in black and white. Black for the dark things, white for the light ones, and several shades of gray in between.   
  
Just as in a dog's vision, the world is made out of black, whites and grays.   
  
Black for the demons, evil to the core; white for the Elders, good beings watching over Earth--- both untainted, pure in its own way. There's no greater burden than to be only one thing. Black and White are both the absence of color and the sum of them all. All, or nothing. What a sad way to live a life...  
  
That is why humans exist.   
  
They have a bit of both worlds, not white enough, not dark enough--- to balance the scales.   
  
As a being of pure evil, the Source sometimes forgot (or chose to ignore, one can never tell what goes on behind that hood) that there was something in between his own darkness and the Light he had spent the past millennia trying to destroy.   
  
That there were other tones, other degrees in between pure evil and pure good.   
  
Phax had reminded him of that with such a blunt obviousness, he had a hard time believing he had overlooked it in the first place.   
  
No matter how many times he punished her, no matter how much dark energy he infused her with, there would always exist a small corner inside of her, buried deep within her very soul that was good.   
  
Humans were good *and* evil--- he was just empowering a side of her, not taking away the other one. To take it away, would mean to strip her of what made her human, and in the process, kill her.   
  
But as long as that speck of Light shone in her heart, she would have doubt, and never quite achieve her full potential-- it just wasn't in her nature to be completely evil.   
  
For a while, he thought he had managed to squash that glow in her for good, burying it under his own darkness that now flowed through her veins. But as of late, he found himself looking into her soul through their link, and he watched with concern as the speck of light became a steady glow, threatening to destroy all the work he had done in the past year or so.   
  
He was willing to bet the half-breed had a lot to do with it.   
  
Ever since they had met again, after a year apart, Phax had been reluctant, slow and doubtful to follow his commands... it seemed their love hadn't died completely--- like burning embers in between the ashes, that when wind blows over come back to life with strength unknown before.   
  
Love was a powerful emotion--- if hatred gave the Demonic Realm its power, Love permeated the Surface like a disease. And it was a force to be reckoned with. As long as Phax loved the half-breed, she would never fully achieve her status as his greatest assassin-to-be.   
  
He cursed in several ancient languages before he managed to calm down. He was tempted to flame to her quarters, and beat her to an inch of her life.   
  
Again.   
  
There was only one thing stopping him--- the knowledge, the *certainty* that if he did, it would only be a waste of energy. He would vent his anger in her, leave her bleeding and broken... she would heal, and they would be back to square one.   
  
He, infusing her with his dark magic.   
  
She holding on to her foolish love for Belthazor like a shield, keeping him from fully owning her. Keeping evil from fully penetrating her.   
  
He had been imprudent, misjudging such a powerful emotion.   
  
She would dance around the edge, never quite falling onto either side. And he would have none of that. Either she turned completely evil, or she would be killed. He had had enough with the half-wannabe's... he was going for the real thing now.   
  
The wickedest of grins danced across his lips, as he caressed the small vial he held in his hand.   
  
He could never take the Good inside of her.   
  
Fine.   
  
He would simple make his way around it. He would encapsulate it, as he had once done with Belthazor's father's soul. To keep an entire soul trapped was one of the most powerful magics he ever had to handle. It would be easier now. He wouldn't be trapping her entire soul--- just a small portion of her, already weakened by the evil permeating the Underworld.   
  
It would be interesting to watch her after the potion had taken its effect.   
  
After the last remnants of humanity inside of her were locked away, stored deep within herself, under layers and layers of his own magic, and her own hatred towards those she had once called family.   
  
It would be fun indeed.   
  
But just to make sure, he would pick up a plan he had put off for a while now--- killing Belthazor. Kill two birds with one stone.   
  
Kill the hybrid, get rid of a thorn on his side, and eliminate the one thing keeping Phax hesitant.   
  
  
*******************  
  
  
It had all started out rather simply.   
  
Prue crying.   
  
That was normal. She was still a baby, and babies cry. There's no mystery in that.   
  
But when no rocking, no feeding, no story telling, no telekinesis-twirling-toys could calm her down, they began worrying.   
  
Maybe she was just growing a tooth... it would be her first, and thanks to the endless Baby Care magazines that littered the house, product of Piper's initial desperate-mother stage, they knew it hurt.   
  
But hours went by, and she wasn't stopping.   
  
At times, her cries would rise, awakening the entire manor, filling every room--- at other times, they would lessen to a bare sob, and her pretty little cheeks were constantly wet due to the endless tears that made their way down her face.   
  
Her eyes were closed most of the time, if as a way to try and fight off the pain that threatened to swallow her, or simply because she was having a vision of mythical proportions, they could not say.   
  
Quite honestly, Cole would've bet his right hand it was the last.   
  
Sometimes, when he held her, trying to soothe her pain away, he would get a glimpse of something. It was never something solid, something he could actually qualify as a vision--- more like an explosion of feeling, a sudden burst of unexplainable sensations that weren't hers.   
  
Prue was almost quiet now.   
  
She lay still in his arms, her tiny body weary and tired, completely drained--- even as a quarter demon, she was too young to be enduring any of this. All he wanted, was to find a way to take all the hurt away from her... he would take it in himself, if that's what it took.   
  
But all the research had proven useless.  
  
Aside from the spell the older Prue had once said, of which there were no traces left because she had never really sat down and written it in the Book of Shadows, there was no known way of taking pain away.   
  
Magical or otherwise.   
  
"Dada...".   
  
Prue's silent whisper was like a balm to his battered heart. He carefully took Prue off his shoulder, and settled her on his lap.  
  
"My brave girl. Are you feeling better?"   
  
He was afraid of holding her too tight, of bruising her little body more than it already was. Yesterday, when her crying had subsided some, ugly bruises began appearing all over her. Although none of them were bleeding, they were far too big for her tiny body, and they spread around her chest and legs like cancer... growing, changing colors, and then fading.   
  
Prue just looked at him, her eyes tired and clouded--- there was pain in them, pain no five-month-old should have to suffer. His own eyes clouded with tears, as he watched her scrunch her features and a small spasm ran up and down her body.   
  
She did not utter a sound.  
  
Instead, she raised a small hand to him, attempting to touch his face. She was still too small for that... instead, he cuddled her in his arms, and bent over a little. If being close to him somehow lessened her pain, he wouldn't let go of her, until this--- whatever it was, let her go.   
  
Her tiny fingers touched his chin and his own hand held hers tenderly, as he cooed at her.   
  
"It's all right Prue... it's gonna be all right".   
  
They had tried summoning Phoebe a week ago.   
  
He had felt something, had felt a pull in his chest--- for a split second, he could've sworn he had seen her, taking shape within the orbing lights and white mist floating across the attic... but then he had blinked, and her image had disappeared.   
  
He had only had the time to utter Prue's name, for the first time realizing that she wasn't there with them, and that by all means, she was their best shot at bringing Phoebe back.   
  
But then the lights had died down, and the mist had melted away, leaving damp furniture and disappointment behind.   
  
Nothing had happened. They really hadn't had the time yet to try again, because it was a few moments after the spell had died down, and there was no Phoebe anywhere to be seen, that Prue had started crying.   
  
And she hadn't stopped since.  
  
A soft footstep echoed behind him, and he turned to see Paige standing in the doorway of the nursery. Her face was worried, and the distress in her whole stance was so evident, he couldn't help but wonder if she had gotten any sleep in the past few nights.   
  
He knew he hadn't.   
  
"Piper wants to know if you need anything".  
  
Once, not so long ago, Paige's voice had held a sparkly quality to it, full of life, full of strength. The strength that the Halliwell family inherited, along with the powers and the stubbornness.   
  
It was gone now.   
  
Her voice was deflated, almost empty of anything but a huge burden that she was never meant to carry. Cole sometimes felt all of this was slowly killing them... eating them from the inside out, eroding their defenses, stripping them from what made them human. Or half demon. Or whitelighter. You get the point.   
  
He rose, carefully taking Prue with him. The baby seemed to have fallen in a dreamless sleep, her eyes standing still behind her closed eyelids. He always knew when the visions came to her in her sleep--- it was a lot like a nightmare.   
  
It seemed she was resting right now.   
  
He walked to Paige, and leaned on the doorframe, careful not to put any added weight on Prue's sleeping form. He himself was exhausted. Both from lack of sleep and emotional strain. But as long as Prue needed him, he would be there--- either until she was free of whatever dark spell had taken a hold of her, or he collapsed in fatigue.   
  
"Not really. It seems to be getting better".   
  
Paige, who stood almost a foot below his own height, seemed smaller in such close proximity. She looked at Prue for a while, her eyes unseeing behind her long black bangs, unkempt and untrimmed, and yet still so very *Paige*.   
  
"Hey", he nudged her, "are you feeling all right?"   
  
She barely acknowledged his question. If it hadn't been for the barely noticeable shrugging of her shoulders, he could've sworn she hadn't even heard him. Carefully, his hand cupped her chin, and forced her to look up at him. He was tired of having a conversation with the top of her head, as she insisted to look down whenever someone addressed her.   
  
"Paige".   
  
His tone carried such questions in it, there was no need for further words. Paige's eyes escaped his for a while, but she made no move to pull away from his grasp. In the end, because Cole couldn't really move, with Prue on one arm and Paige on the other, he simply waited.   
  
And Paige came to him in the end.   
  
"I don't think I can stand it".  
  
Her voice was barely a whisper, and added to her hollow tone, it made Cole shiver inside. When faith is lost, it's almost impossible to recover it. He had, once. Because of Phoebe. But it seemed Paige's problem ran deeper that he thought it did... he had always considered her as the most spirited one of them all.  
  
Young in age, there was an ageless quality to her, in the smirk that curled her lips, and the glint in her eyes whenever she spoke of something that interested her. And it was all being lost now, buried under layers and layers of--- what?   
  
"Stand what?"   
  
She sighed loudly, and leaned against the other side of the doorframe. It was only then that he noticed how thin she had gotten--- Paige had always been skinny, and her skin pale and her lips red. It was like saying the sky is blue and the snow white.   
  
But now that he saw her, really *saw* her, without any rushes or adrenaline running, he noticed a hundred and one small details...  
  
She was almost anemic in her paleness. Her once shinning, full hair, lay against her back as if thrown there. Her stance was slouched and tired, deep bags under her eyes. This was not the Paige he knew--- this was a ghost of her.   
  
"All of this. Phoebe, Prue--- doesn't it ever stop?"   
  
A sad smile danced across his lips, as he realized that *that* was one question that would never stop being asked. Piper had said the same to him once, not so long ago. Even Phoebe had whispered it to him one night, alone in bed... it had been only a matter of time until Paige would utter it too.   
  
And there really was no real answer for it.   
  
No, it never stops. The battle is endless, the pain forever. Time goes by, and for every day that passes, a new war is fought-- and there's really nothing they could do about it. Every day is a struggle on its own... from the homeless woman that strives to find food for her starving children, to the powerful tycoon that ponders suicide in his rich mansion, wondering what life would've been like without all his money, to the powerful Witch that wonders if she's really making a difference.   
  
Yes, it stops. Every minute you spend with your loved ones, every night you go by without being jerked awake by real life. Every smile from those you consider family, every quiet moment where you're left alone to just take in the marvel that is life, and thank whoever is up there that you managed to make it through another day.   
  
"I don't know".   
  
A silent sob racked Paige's thin frame, and he was compelled to stretch out a hand at her--- but Paige wasn't Piper.  
  
Prue's even breathing against his neck was soothing him down, and he realized that maybe, even if Paige would not appreciate his own touch, Prue had a way with people.   
  
Softly, he moved the baby from his arms, and offered her to the broken woman in front of him. Prue whimpered in her sleep, as her father's warmth was taken away from her, but she did not wake.   
  
Paige looked up at him, the question dangling on her pupils. She had never really held the baby, just for the pleasure of holding her. Every time she watched Cole and his daughter, she felt as if she would intrude on their privacy, break their bond if she ever held Prue... and here was Cole, offering Prue to her...   
  
"I can't".   
  
Cole smiled slowly, recalling a similar conversation between Piper and himself. In the end, he couldn't really remember what his life had been like before Prue... he hoped the small baby could do the same for Paige.  
  
"Yes you can. Hold her".   
  
His tone didn't leave any room for 'no's.   
  
So, Paige held the small baby, and silence settled over the room. Cole watched as Paige's eyes slowly, ever so slowly, unclouded, letting her true self shine through.   
  
Prue's steady breathing was the only sound that broke the quiet. He didn't really know where Piper and Leo were, but he thanked that their roller coaster lives had decided to give them this break. They always seemed to be getting interrupted, especially when they needed the time to say something important.   
  
"She makes everything worth it, doesn't she?".   
  
Paige's voice sounded more like her old self-- some of the Halliwell strength was coming back to her... she was, after all, Prue's aunt.   
  
"Yes, she does".   
  
He smiled at both of them, even if Paige never saw it. She was too busy looking down at the sleeping baby nestled in her arms, her pretty face almost relaxed... they had a future to fight for. They had a new generation of Halliwells in the making, and it was for them that she would keep fighting.  
  
And even if they, the older Halliwells (and Matthews), would never experience peace and relaxation, maybe they could make sure their children did.   
  
"She does indeed".   
  
  
********************************  
  
  
She didn't know how long she lay there, unmoving, barely breathing and barely conscious. The trauma of several teleportations in a row, both of which she had had no say in, had drained her for good.   
  
But even if her eyes were half-closed, and her breathing shallow, she was fully aware of the things going on around her. As its counterpart on the Surface, her quarters had a low hum to them, a silent energy that coursed through the air, bringing in the sounds from outside.   
  
The monotonus chanting of Dark Priests, the occasional cry of a lesser demon facing an upper level one, and the constant buzz of the Underworld. It was not better or worse than that of the Mortal Realm... it was just different.   
  
No one had come.   
  
She didn't know how long she had laid there, waiting, expecting to see Jhiera, or probabaly the Source himself, come and chastise her for letting the Witches' call get so far. The Source had told her how to disrupt the call, how to stop the magic from reaching her--- the thought of using it hadn't even crossed her mind.   
  
But no one came.   
  
Had she had a clock, she would've been counting the tick-tocks, one by one, feeling as the hours passed, and the day died-- and still, she remained on the bed.   
  
She was feeling much better now.   
  
Not at one hundred percent, but she could move on her own free will now. She sighed, and rolled over in the unmade bed, feeling the satin of the sheets caress her skin.  
  
"Tsk, tsk. Falling asleep on me already?".   
  
She jumped in the bed, twirling with one swift motion, and summoning a fireball in her right hand. The room spun a few times, but otherwise, the pain did not increase.   
  
Much.   
  
What she saw was enough to freeze her on her spot.   
  
Because leaning casually against one of the stone walls, was Prue.   
  
Her sister.   
  
Her *dead* sister.   
  
"How--?".   
  
Prue's smirk was impossible to miss. And something inside of it reached out to her, not quite believing, and yet *needing* to believe. That was Prue's trademark gesture--- a look to the side, a lopsided half-grin dancing across her lips.   
  
No demon could ever get it right. No shapeshifter could ever impersonate Prue.   
  
"What else?. Magic".   
  
Phax tried to rise from the bed, tried to get off the mattress and walk to her, to touch her, to feel her, was she even real?. Was it a trick of her imagination?. Was it another mind lapse, where she reverted back to 1999?.   
  
Prue was by her side in a blink. Truth to be told, there was a part of her that questioned the impossibility of Prue reaching her in time if she was standing across the wide room... she pushed it back.   
  
Phax felt Prue's fingers across her arm, felt her warmth, felt her *breath*, and she knew she was real. She was real. With her. Here.   
  
She wanted to cry, she was so happy.   
  
Instead, she just looked at Prue, looked at her long and hard, and watched with barely contained joy as her eyes were indeed blue-green, and her hair was still black against her shoulders.   
  
"Why?".   
  
The older woman frowned at her question, and a flash of determination ran across her eyes.   
  
"There's no time. I think they know I'm here. We must go".   
  
Everything was happening too fast. Phax couldn't concentrate-- she was moving on autopilot, without really realizing she was moving at all.   
  
"Go?. Where?".  
  
Prue helped her up, and forced her to lay on her, supporting most of her weight. Prue had always been strong... the strongest one of them all. Phax buried her face in her shoulder, and felt her scent filling her nostrils.   
  
She was really here...  
  
"Out of here".   
  
Her voice was loud and clear, even through her muffled ears. Phax looked up at her sister, and searched for any signs of deceit. She found none. All she found, was Prue's unblinking stare, and a love so deep, and a worry so true, she couldn't help but wonder how she had survived without her in the first place.   
  
Prue was always looking out for her... she had, in a way, been the mother Phax had never had.   
  
"I saw you".   
  
That stopped the older woman. She seemed surprised, and even the raised eyebrow she sent Phax's way was familiar.   
  
"When?".   
  
Phax took a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts, but it was too hard. Why was it so damn hard to think all of a sudden?. Something was scrambling her mind, keeping her from forming a conscious line of thinking.   
  
"After he marked me".   
  
There was no pain in her voice. She was merely stating a fact, not asking for her forgiveness.   
  
Prue looked at the arm she was holding over and around her own neck, and her eyes found the inverted triangle, marked on Phax's forearm.   
  
"Don't worry. We'll fix that when we get some time. Now we have to go".   
  
Phax smiled sadly at her older sister, and gently disentangled herself from her. She fell back on the bed, her body barely responding her commands.   
  
"It's of no use. He'll track us down".  
  
Prue looked down at Phax, her hands on her hips, the expensive clothing she wore riding up her arms as she did so. Phax mused to herself how even in the Underworld Prue managed to look so fine...   
  
"And since when has that stopped us?. Come on, Pheebs, get up!".   
  
The mention of a pet name she hadn't heard in ages wasn't as painful as it should've been. She wasn't that woman anymore...   
  
"Too tired. You go. He can't get to you too".   
  
Prue simply grabbed her hand in her own, and squeezed it gently, something Phax hadn't felt for a long time. Only Prue had ever been able to hold her hand like this, a firm hold, a warm embrace and a loving caress at the same time.   
  
"I'm not leaving you here. We're getting out together".   
  
Phax did not budge. Instead, she ran a hand down Prue's cheek, feeling the familiar cheekbones under her skin. She had forgotten how protective Prue could be...  
  
"I named her after you, you know".   
  
Prue tugged her arm, trying to nudge her into rising.   
  
"Phoebe, come on!".   
  
Phax laughed hardly at the mention of her name. Phoebe. She hadn't heard that in a while. She had even stopped thinking of herself as Phoebe. But then again, Prue would know nothing about that, would she?. She had been dead, dead and buried for almost two years now. She should be a rotting corpse, not a living, breathing annoyance as she was being right now.   
  
"Told you. I can't. I'm still healing".   
  
The black haired woman relented. She released Phax's hand, and looked at her with wonder. Then, she reached into her back pocket, and produced a small vial out of it. But then again, those pants *had* no back pockets... Phax was too tired to really ask.   
  
"Here. This might help".   
  
She offered the vial to the younger woman, the purplish liquid dancing inside. Phax looked at it questioningly.   
  
"What is it?".   
  
A smirk blossomed in Prue's lips, as she sat next to Phoebe, and softly held her up.  
  
"Power boost. It should give you enough strength to get out of here".   
  
Any other time, Phax would've refused. Prue should be getting to safety, not trying to get her lost younger sister to drink some concoction she had made up. But, truth to be told, she was too tired to complain. She just nodded slowly, wondering if after she drank it she would stop feeling so damned drowsy, and took the vial from Prue's hands.   
  
She uncorked it, and a foul smell diffused through the room. She made a face, but Prue's gentle hand guided the small bottle to her lips, while whispering soothing words in her ear. Phax swallowed it in one gulp.  
  
One thing she had learned as a human, was to get the bad stuff over with quickly. Like pulling a Band-Aid out...   
  
As the liquid burned down her throat, she never saw Prue's form flame into that of the Source. And when she was able to look at her surroundings again, she didn't really care.   
  
  
************************  
  
  
Tbc... 


	14. The Calm before the Storm

** Chapter 14: The Calm before the Storm **,  
  
by Lilian  
  
lilian413@yahoo.com  
  
AN: Finally!! I think it might be raining cows (or men... that would be lovely, wouldn't it? :0), because I am actually updating!   
  
This chapter is dedicated to both Maria R and Gemini UK... you both helped me realize there's no gain without risk, and just get it the hell over with and post this damn thing. Thank you so much!  
  
To all my wonderful readers, who held in there and waited patiently for me to update. I am sorry to have kept you waiting for so long, and I promise it won't happen again. I do hope you enjoy this chapter, andthe many that are on the works.   
  
A word of advice (and self-promotion): I recommend you go back and read the story-- or at least the last few chapters to understand some of the things going on here.   
  
  
Read on, and review please!  
  
  
****************  
  
  
The Source smiled as he watched Phax kill her latest victim.   
  
Had one been looking hard enough, there was pride in that smile--- similar to a father looking at his only daughter twirl in her prom dress. He watched with glee as Phax struck down over and over again, clearly at ease with her task.   
  
The whimpering human girl never stood a chance.   
  
She was a Witch in training, belonging to what would one day become one of the most powerful covens in the city humans called San Francisco. Well, thanks to his untimely intervention, not anymore.  
  
Dana Cranston would've grown into her role as the leader of a powerful new generation of witches--- had she lived long enough to actually realize her dreams were prophetic and not the result of too much late night studying.   
  
The Source laughed, and the sound was like nails being drawn over a board--- scratching, unnerving and downright terrifying. It was enough for Phax to halt in her attack, hand raised and ready to strike down one more time. She looked up at her master, eyebrow questioning...   
  
"Finish her, Phax".  
  
The cattish grin that curled Phax's lips was inhuman in its evil, and the Source felt another surge of accomplishment as he watched the product of many hours of work get back to business.   
  
Was this the same whimpering witch that had once been his worst headache? Was this deadly woman the same Charmed One who had turned one of his most powerful assassins into her lap dog and been this close to actually finishing *him* off?  
  
A ghost of a memory (more like a what-could've-been) made the Source shiver under the darkness of his hood, as his pre-sentient abilities allowed him a glimpse of another timeline. This witch and his own fate seemed to be linked...  
  
Whatever the case, the witch was his now. His to control, his to command... and the thought brought him much more pleasure than he ever thought he could feel. To see the once paragon of good twisted and reshaped into the dark, wicked demon that was now wiping the blade of her athame against her pants, trying to get witch blood out of it was just too ironic.  
  
Who would've thought that Good's avatars would make such excellent demons? So much precious talent gone to waste... he remembered the oldest one, Prue. That woman had had the potential he sometimes longed to see in his lines of demons. But Prudence had been unturnable, and he knew it.   
  
Phoebe, on the other hand, was different. She had always been different. Her mother had felt it, and so had the old hag--- right from the moment she came crying and wailing out her mother's womb, and even before. Patricia Halliwell had experimented visions while carrying the baby, and that was something he had never heard before.  
  
Born inside the manor, Phax was the result of the mixture of ley lines and magic so ancient the Halliwells had barely began to grasp it. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, and Phax had teetered on the edge for quite some time before he set his eyes on her.   
  
Piper Halliwell and Paige Matthews were of another crop--- both with their morals clear, their minds clean. Pure witch blood, untainted with shadows...   
  
"Master?".   
  
Phax's voice awoke him from his reverie, and he noticed the young woman was standing in front of him, athame strapped to her hip. The smell of burnt human flesh permeated the room, and the telltale ashes were evident on the otherwise black floor. So, she had burnt the corpse away... he had been in her mind when she had killed her first innocent. He had been there when she was been consumed by doubts and hesitation, still debating with herself whether it was the right move to make.   
  
Truth to be told, he had been surprised to realize she was doing it. All in all, he had never expected her to be so completely under his control. He had prepared everything for the refusal to kill he had *known* would come when she would be face to face with her first human victim.   
  
The refusal had been there, as had been the horror of watching the body burn away. But she had done it anyway... the power of hatred run deep in the witch's veins, much more than he could've ever anticipated.   
  
Where was all the doubt and hesitation now? He smiled as he watched the torches reflected in her black eyes... now this, this was the ultimate weapon. Once a witch now a demon--- with enough knowledge fromboth sides to belong to none, and yet still, with her loyalties firmly in place. He had made sure of that.   
  
"You are dismissed, Phax".   
  
The demoness bowed respectfully, and shimmered away. The Source was left alone in the throne room, the thirteen candles flickering away around him.   
  
Things were good.   
  
He had the witch totally under his control.   
  
He waved his hand about, and a glowing sphere of light appeared from thin air, hovering slightly above his stretched hand. Light green in color, it was of a brilliance seldom outmatched, and the perfect spherical shape held one of his most precious possessions as of yet: the witch's soul.   
  
He looked deep into it, and felt amused at the way it seemed to shy away from his stare. Without a conscience to speak of, Phax's soul could still feel the iniquity of his presence, and the inherent good within it rebelled against its constraints. But there was little it could do to escape... with no power whatsoever, it was just a pawn in his game, and would continue to be so until he saw fit.   
  
The potion the witch had drunk all those weeks ago had proven successful in removing the soul out of her. More so, it had eradicated the last strands of good from her being, rendering her a husk inhabited by hatred, anger and anything else he decided.   
  
She still retained all of her memories, but he could toy with them as he pleased. Through their Blood Link he could mold her recollections into whatever he wanted, pushing some of them back and presenting her with the scariest and worse moments of her life.   
  
It was an easy job, considering all the work he had done prior to the removal of her soul. He had paved the way for an easy takeover, and he was much pleased with the results.   
  
The glowing globe changed colors to a light yellow, as if in response to his thoughts.   
  
{Yes. Be afraid, little witch. Be very afraid}.  
  
What he held in his hand was as much Phax as the demon that had just left his presence. In a way, he held a part of her, a side that he had chosen to remove from her as one does with a tumor. So, it was still connected to him, albeit the link was much dimmer.   
  
His mark on the witch was deep, and it would forever keep them connected.   
  
Curling his long, red fingers around the sphere, he squeezed... a distant scream of pain echoed around him, and the way the soul pulsed and burned under his hold was addictive. So much torture, so very little time...   
  
Releasing his grab on the small orb, knowing his own strength sometimes got carried away, he tucked it back within his robes.   
  
The witch was his. And the time for revenge was looming closer.   
  
  
***********************  
  
  
  
Jhiera was getting drunk. She could feel it in the way the room swayed around her in rhythm with the music blaring through the loud speakers, and she fought back the urge to blast this damn club and its ridiculous customers all to hell.   
  
The booze was good, and besides, the owner was a demon himself, and would not take lightly to the fact she had decided to put him out of business. Instead, she simply sat there, clutching a glass of (what the hell was she drinking, anyway?) in her right hand, while her left fingers tapped on the bar table.   
  
"Lonely?".   
  
An impossibly cheery face sat next to her, and her answer was lost amidst the techno music and dizzying strobe lights. She did not have the time nor the energy to put up with pathetic, horny males with too much time on their hands, who thought she was an easy lay.   
  
She chose to ignore the newcomer, and focused her attention on the dark liquid swirling in her goblet.   
  
Damn Phax. Damn Phax and the Source's infatuation with her. Damn them all to hell.   
  
She had been escalating in the Underworld ladder, making her way into a male-dominated world, winning a reputation of her own. Through lies, deceit, treachery and back-stabbing (what's a little treason among friends, right?), she had reached a point few other female demons had ever been--- just a few steps back from being invited to join the Brotherhood of the Thorn itself, she was a breath away from gaining the spotlight she deserved.   
  
And then in came the renegade witch, and wham!, her best-laid plans all sent to hell, because the Source thought she made a fancy new toy. And to make her humiliation worse, he had anointed *her* as the witch's mentor, forcing her to swallow her hate and train the pitiful human.  
  
And the damn woman was good at it! She thought she could've handled it if Phax actually failed at anything she did--- but the woman was blessed! Everything she set her mind to, she accomplished. And even if her original task (killing the Charmed Ones) was still undone, Jhiera knew it was because the Source had kept her from doing it, rather than because the newborn she-demon was unable to do it.   
  
So, here she was, sitting in a human club on a Thursday night, trying to forget.   
  
"Hadn't seen that look on your face in quite a while, Jhiera".  
  
She started at the mention of her demon name. Looking at the man sitting next to her, her purple eyes widened as she took in his appearance:   
  
"Shier!".  
  
The handsome demon nodded slowly, winking at her. "Long time no see". Jhiera took a sip from her drink before answering. "I thought you were settled in Europe by now, Shier. Rumor had it you were retiring".   
  
The cocky smile on Shier's lips was inviting, and the sparkle in his eyes told Jhiera he was looking forward to the remainder of the evening. Well, he had another thing coming! She wasn't the young, foolish demoness she had been back in the 20's, when they had first crossed paths.  
  
The bitter taste of her drink running down her throat was very much like the acrid memory of her failure: she had been young and eager--- he had coerced her into telling him everything he wanted to know, and taken what could've been her greatest accomplishment away from her.   
  
"Sadly for you, the thought never crossed my mind".  
  
As Shier sat up straight on the bar stool next to her and ordered another round of drinks for both of them, Jhiera couldn't help but notice the way his muscles rippled under the silk shirt, the way his impossible green eyes shone from under his ebony bangs...  
  
Damn it! She slammed her drink down, uncaring of the way the strong liquid splashed out of the glass and into her hand. She wasn't a fledgling anymore! What the hell was wrong with her? Why couldn't she control herself whenever he was around?  
  
He had been the main reason she had left the Old World and had moved down here to the States, to get away from his piercing stare and knee-melting caresses... under his shadow she would've withered and died like a flower without sun, and she knew it. Why in the hell wasn't she walking away, then?  
  
What was keeping her rooted to her spot, mesmerized by the way his collar was unbuttoned just right and seemed to flash her a healthy amount of skin every now and then?  
  
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from bolting when he turned to look at her. She was powerful, more powerful than she had ever dreamed she could be. And she was a damn good demon--- she was standing her ground against him, even if it killed her.   
  
"For old times", he said, softly pushing another drink in her direction. As he raised his own glass and waited for her to do the same, Jhiera locked stares with him, and refused to look away. Her hand found the cold glass and she held onto it for dear life.   
  
What was he doing here? And why in the Source's name had she forgotten the unearthly viridian of his pupils? She lost herself in them, and barely noticed the ethilic haze pouring down her throat.   
  
Bastard.   
  
He was doing it again... and he knew it. Jhiera could see the smirk of triumph behind those seemingly innocuous eyes, could see the way he was giving himself the hands up while he appeared nonchalant about the whole thing.   
  
"Asshole".   
  
Her hiss left her lips quickly, and the way his grin fell felt like a victory to her. She shook his spell off of her, and set her drink down. Throwing a couple of bills on the table, she stood up and walked away from him, the satisfying feeling of release spreading through her being.   
  
She had done it!   
  
She felt the disturbance in the air before she saw him shimmer in front of her. "You know better than to do that in here, Shier. Rules forbid it".  
  
When she looked into his eyes, she felt a sharp, sudden pang of fear creeping up her spine. Shier was an upper level demon, and a powerful one at that---- as soon as it had come, the storm of anger faded away from his pupils, and the assertive grin was back in place.   
  
"Kindran will forgive me. You, on the other hand...". Forced together by the movement of the faceless crowd around them, Jhiera felt his hand encircling her waist and pulling her towards him. Her initial resistance soon fled her mind when he leaned in and whispered in her ear: "I dream about you, Jhiera... did you know I was devastated when you left Paris?".   
  
She fought the fog of sexuality that he seemed to exude from his every pore, and prayed he could not hear the frantic beating of her heart. "Funny way you had of showing it", she spat back at him, alluding to his reputation as a womanizer and freeloader.   
  
He laughed against the soft skin of her neck, and it wasn't long before she realized they were in the middle of the dancing floor, weaving through the human herd like a hot knife through butter. He was sweet-talking her away from the door, and she knew it... but she felt too drugged to really do anything about it.   
  
"Those exquisite eyes of yours haunt me, lover... remember our times together?". He suggestively pressed himself against her, and Jhiera shivered unwillingly, the memory of their time stalking the dark, enchanting nights of Paris together jumping forth with a vengeance.   
  
How could she forget? How could she forget the thrill of the hunt as they chased the vampires back into the sewers? And the mind-blowing sex marathons...   
  
She grunted when he pushed her against a wall, away from prying stares and curious perverts. She let him work his hands under her skirt, and she clung to him for dear life when his fingers found her skin.   
  
This... this was...   
  
The idea hit her out of the blue, and the devilish smile that curled her ruby red lips was lost as she entwined her hands in his hair.   
  
She realized her power over him, power she had never realized she had--- as a woman, she had the ability to control men at her will. Demons hid it well, but *he* had sought *her* out, and was now trying to have his way with her. She let her fingers stroke his neck, her leg sliding up his own like a snake in its fluidity.   
  
"I have a proposition for you".  
  
Her voice came out panting and throaty--- she didn't really care, because she knew he was far too gone to deny her anything. She cursed herself for not realizing this earlier, but maybe it was for the best--- if she played her cards right, she just might have the ally she needed to get Phax out of the way.   
  
"Do you, lover?", the way he purred against her breasts was fierce, and through the corner of her eye, she saw a blushing human couple skittering away. Her hand found its way into his shirt, and when her nimble fingers caressed the skin underneath, she felt him stiffening under her, and she smiled.   
  
"Later", she promised, as she lost herself in the world of uncanny pleasure he offered her.   
  
Later indeed, she vowed. Later, she and Shier would conjure up the plan needed to get Phax out of the picture, and earning her the recognition she deserved.  
  
The witch was going down.   
  
  
  
******************  
  
  
Piper was having one hell of a day. First, the three orders of beverages she had placed for the P3's supplies never arrived, due to some mistake in the delivery track. Then, two of her waitresses had resigned: Pauline lived with her parents and they had threatened to disown her if she continued working in that Den of Iniquity. Lydia had decided to continue her studies full time, and working night shifts wasn't doing it for her anymore.   
  
And now, to top it all, she had no band to perform tonight.   
  
She sighed, and rubbed her temples, trying to chase the migraine away.   
  
"Need some help, sis?".   
  
Paige's overly chirpy voice made Piper entertain the idea of strangling her younger sister... the idea quickly fled, when a comforting hand was placed on her shoulder, and a pack of ice was softly pressed against her forehead.   
  
She opened her eyes, and thanked the Gods she had a sister who could read people as well as Paige could.   
  
"If you can magically produce a band for tomorrow night, I'd owe you forever".   
  
At Paige's raised eyebrow, Piper backtracked. "On second thought, forget I ever said that".   
  
Paige shook her head slightly, the smile in her face never once leaving her lips. "I won't tell if you won't".   
  
Piper mock slapped her sister's shoulder, and bent down to retrieve some bills she had been trying to order.   
  
"So, any plans for tonight?".   
  
As she spoke, her fingers began doing the calculations needed to adequately use P3's budget, in a habit born out of endless nights doing the same thing. Confident in her own abilities, Piper let her fingers do the work, and focused on the slight blush that was covering Paige's cheeks.   
  
"Oh, I see".   
  
Paige did not waste any time trying to fool her older sister. Piper had that annoying power that only mothers possess to just *know* whenever people are hiding something--- and besides, she had nothing to hide.   
  
Yet.   
  
"Glenn?".   
  
Nodding once, Paige continued to play with the stray straws in front of her, until she finally settled for just one that was bent out of its original shape rather quickly.   
  
"I don't see what the problem is, then".   
  
Piper put the ice pack down, and thanked whoever was listening for the coolness that calmed the impending migraine. As she carefully put the ice pack on a plate to avoid the staining of her bar, she looked at Paige, all downcast looks and wriggling feet, and couldn't help the smile that came to her lips.   
  
"Paige? I can't read minds. Not yet, anyway".   
  
In response, the black haired young woman raised her eyes, and Piper quickly shut up when she noticed the flicker of uncertainty dancing in those green-blue eyes. Putting both calculator and club-manager mode aside, she made her way across the bar, and sat on the stool next to Paige. Placing a comforting hand on her sister's shoulder, she asked again.   
  
"What is it, honey?".   
  
Silence settled on the otherwise empty club, but Piper had two other sisters whom she had drilled troubles out of-- she knew the Halliwells could easily clam up and remain stubbornly quiet when the heart was concerned.   
  
Especially when the heart was concerned.   
  
It had taken many (obvious) pushes to get Prue to actually consider the idea of dating Andy, and Phoebe--- well, Phoebe was a story in herself. She stomped on the twinge of sadness that erupted in her heart at the thought of her younger sister. She had another sister to take care of first.   
  
"I'm afraid".   
  
Paige's whisper barely registered with Piper, and when it did, a whole lot of things made sense. Every Halliwell had gone through this very same problem---   
  
Worrying about what to tell and what to hide from a loved one.   
  
Sure, in the end, neither she nor Phoebe had had to worry about that, seeing as Leo had proven to be their very own Guardian Angel, and Cole was a half-demon sent to kill them... but Andy had been none of those.   
  
And he had gotten caught in the crossfire.   
  
Now that she thought of it, Piper doubted Paige knew much about Prue... or Andy for that matter. They had never really sat and talked about her, though not for lack of trying.   
  
At first, Piper had been afraid to let Paige in, afraid that somehow she would replace Prue. When she had gotten over that, it had been Paige who was the one afraid that she wasn't living up to the memory of the sister she never met. And then--- well, after that, things had gone to hell, and they rarely had the time to even sit down and talk about the weather, least of all about Prue.   
  
If Piper's memory served her right, Glenn had returned sometime last year. As a matter of fact, just a few days after--- after Phoebe had disappeared. Paige had been in no condition to be concerned about him, but Piper did remember him being around the house sometimes, just keeping her youngest sister company.   
  
Not that she had ever thanked him for that, but still. She made a mental note to call the young man...   
  
It seemed that after making sure Paige was not falling apart, he had left again. Where he went, Piper had no idea, but it must've been imperative for him to leave when his not-so-girlfriend was suffering.   
  
Coming back to it, Piper realized she hadn't answered yet, and Paige was looking at her all wide eyes and questioning look, wanting, needing an answer. An answer only Piper could provide, and sadly, an answer there was no real answer for.   
  
Piper stopped at that, wondering if Paige's way of speaking wasn't rubbing off on her.   
  
"You're wondering if it will be worth it?".   
  
They had agreed, some time ago, to not let anyone in on their secret. Now that they had a powerful enemy out for their Wiccan blood, they could not dare endanger innocents simply by telling them that they were witches...   
  
Paige had accepted never to tell anyone, and that wasn't what was worrying her---   
  
"I'm supposed to meet him tonight. Pre-Valentine's celebration, and I don't know what to do!".   
  
Piper sighed to herself, and brushed a nonexistent speck of dust off of her pants. "You think they'll go after him?".   
  
There was no need to ask who 'they' were. Paige nodded slowly, pushing the remaining strands of the straw away, and picking up another one. "I mean, how do I know I'm not signing his death sentence by going out with him? How do I know they're not keeping tabs on us, just waiting to attack?".   
  
Piper wanted to tell Paige to forget it, to cancel on Glenn, to remain safe, hidden... but she knew better. She had Leo to turn to, she had a husband to lean on. Cole had baby Prue, a reason to live for... and Paige had no one.   
  
A loving family, yes. Trusted friends, yes. But no one to love. And Piper knew how devastating that kind of loneliness could get. So, swallowing back down the bitter taste of responsibility, she gave Paige's back a good rub, encouraging her further.   
  
"Paige, you can't do this to yourself. You should go tonight".   
  
The emerald depths that locked stares with her were surprised. Honestly, Piper was surprised too. But then it all made sense... they were just helping the demons by remaining lonely and isolated. Humans are social beings by nature, and sooner or later, they were going to need outer company. Paige was the youngest, and that was probably why she was snapping the first.   
  
"We have lived far too long in the shadows. Go, have fun for a while. You can always call us if something goes wrong, or orb away if the situation calls for it. We'll spray some memory dust on him if we have to".   
  
Piper brushed a lock of hair behind Paige's face, and firmly repeated.   
  
"Go. You deserve it".   
  
As a small child just told that whatever she did wasn't wrong, Paige was hesitant, and did not bolt from the stool just yet. Although she really wanted to... Piper saw the doubt still lingering in her eyes, and pushed her softly on her way to the door.   
  
"Go".   
  
The smile that flashed across Paige's lips was something Piper hadn't seen in a long time, and it made all the soft chiding worth it. The younger woman turned on her heels, and started up the stairs, before coming to a stop, tapping her fingers against the railing of the stairs.   
  
Before Piper had even asked what was wrong, Paige turned back, and hugged her sister tightly. Surprised, it took Piper a few seconds to react, but soon, both young women were hugging tight, just comforting each other.   
  
"Thank you, Piper", Paige's soft voice whispered against Piper's ear, and she tenderly caressed the back of Paige's back. "You're welcome, honey. You're most welcome".   
  
They remained like that for a few more moments, until Piper softly disentangled herself from the embrace, and again pushed Paige to the door.   
  
"Now go, you have a date to get ready for".   
  
As Paige practically flew up the flight of stairs, she never noticed how Piper brushed her eyes to push a few tears away.   
  
  
*******************  
  
  
Phax was tired.  
  
As she sat by the vanity, her nimble fingers picked up the hairbrush and slowly began grooming her hair. It was getting longer... after she had zinged it away during her first training sessions, she had let it grow. It was back to her old length, and even longer... it cascaded down her back, the blonde dye gone.   
  
The Source didn't like it.   
  
Neither did she, for that matter. It reminded her of days long past, of a past she'd rather forget. She had gone blonde in hopes of making a change in her life. Now that she had succeeded at that, what was the need of coloring her hair anymore?   
  
Besides, black looked better on her. It went with her eyes...  
  
The torches hanging from the walls illuminated the room quietly, the occasional creak and snap of the magical fuel being consumed breaking the silence every now and then. Thanks to the mirror in front of her, she could see the way her shadow cast a slim darkness on the grainy soil. It flickered and waved around her with a mind of its own, perhaps in reminiscence of the demon her former lover had once controlled, or perhaps simply because it wanted to.   
  
This was one of the things that unsettled her whenever she went to the Surface. In the Underworld, there was no Sun. Light escaped from the darkened corridors, as if fearing the things it could unveil should it ever permeate the halls. That was why the Demon World relied on torches and fires to see--- not that demons needed light to see per se, but it was an evocative gesture of instinct, back in the old days when demons and humans alike dwelt in the world above.   
  
As she stood up straight and watched with a grim smile as her reflection did the same, she wondered what other things did fate have in store for her. She had once been a powerful Witch (a past she know remembered with disgust and pity), protecting the so called innocent humans from the forces of Evil.   
  
She was a powerful Demon now, created to kill and destroy, to bring mayhem and chaos wherever she was sent to---   
  
Had it been only a few weeks ago when she had been ravaged by doubt, torn apart by feelings? She scoffed at the memory of her own weakness. Whenever she remembered the days prior to that night, it was all blurry and distorted. It was like remembering a dream--- she only got flashes and glimpses, and all along, the distinct feeling that there had been something wrong with her until she had met the Source.   
  
What she had drank that fateful night, she still did not know. And she probably never would, but it didn't matter now.   
  
She was whole, for the first time ever.   
  
She had come full circle, finally shedding the last remnants of miserable humanity--- she thought of them as nothing but enemies now. The Halliwells were her enemies and so was Belthazor... the traitor who had dared beguile her into believing in love and broken her heart in the process.   
  
The strange thing was, she felt no different. She could still remember the death of her own daughter, could still feel remorse in the back of her mind whenever she remembered her birth--- but there were no tears and no pain, just--- sadness.   
  
Regret that her daughter had not lived, regret that the Demon World had lost such a powerful warrior. She could see her mistake now--- she had killed her own daughter in hopes of saving her from what she had then thought was Hell.   
  
How stupid she had been.   
  
Hell was the Surface, where low, vermin-like creatures crawled and slithered, engrossed in staying alive for another day, in seeing the sun rise another morning--- she had shed the veil covering her eyes and she could see the truth now.   
  
She had been destined to become Phax. From the moment she had been born, everything she had ever done, everything she had ever thought had been another step towards the goal of her lifetime--- breaking the human carcass, and becoming a demon.   
  
Prue had been her chance of giving back her master everything he had ever done for her. Lost in between the limbo of demonhood and humanity, she had failed to see it. She knew better now.   
  
She slowly placed the hairbrush down, and brushed a few rebellious strands of hair away from her face.   
  
The day was tomorrow.   
  
Tomorrow, her revenge on her family started.  
  
  
*************  
  
  
Tbc... 


	15. See no Evil, Hear no Evil

** Chapter 15: See no evil, Hear no evil **  
  
by Lilian.   
  
lilian413@yahoo.com  
  
AN: See? Just look outside and it'll be raining men. :0 No, you're not dreaming: this *is* chapter 15, barely a week after 14! Am I being a good girl or what?  
  
To Raquel, because you rule girl!  
  
  
****************  
  
  
"Are you insane?".  
  
The way Shier was pacing up and down the chamber would've been dizzying to anyone else; but to Jhiera it only showed just how much of a wild idea she had come up with. And that made it all the more fun.   
  
"No. Just pissed".  
  
She lounged on the bed, aware of the way Shier's eyes strayed from their path in front of him to look at her naked body every now and then. She loved having this amount of power over him... over a demon whose name was spoken in hushed tones and with reverence. He was known for his uncanny abilities at doing whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it--- as a matter of fact, she could not think of anyone else who deserved to be called a 'mercenary' more than he did.   
  
"But Jhiera--- should he ever find out, we'd be yesterday's history!".   
  
She grinned at him, pushing her long hair out of the way. "But if he doesn't, we will have lost an enemy and won ourselves fame".   
  
He stopped his mad dash across the stony room, and looked at her straight. She put on her best poker face, and made sure her breasts heaved in time with her breathing, knowing a victory when she saw one.   
  
She was surprised at her own boldness. Decades ago, she had worshipped the ground he walked on, and would've done practically anything he asked her to. He had been fully aware of that, and had used that power over her without mercy or hesitation.   
  
She had once sworn he would pay. Time had not healed her wounds, and her hatred for him had grown within her like a well nourished rose bush, developing blood red buds every time she heard of the amazing feats Shier accomplished.   
  
One day, had been her motto. One day, he would pay.   
  
And now, the tables were turned. Maybe in old age, or over-confidence from his part... whatever she wanted to call it, she had Shier eating out of the palm of her hand and it was beautiful.  
  
What a marvelous way to get rid of him *and* the witch at the same time. It was almost orgasmic in its perfection... besides, she got a kick out of it, she thought, as the heat of their recent activities reasserted itself in her belly.   
  
To be able to get revenge, get rid of the nuisance *and* experience heights of pleasure no other lover had ever taken her to, well, she must've been a pretty damn good girl in her past life to deserve this opportunity.   
  
"We're really doing this", he said, brushing his dark hair with his left hand. Yes, we are, she thought--- or at least I am. Not letting her glee shine through her purple eyes, she beckoned him to join her in the bed, and he did not refuse.   
  
As she lost herself in the bliss of his embrace, her eyes found the ceiling and fixed on a certain spot. As her back arched under Shier's attentive ministrations, the vicious smile that curled her lips was lost to the tall demon.   
  
Jhiera was not a demon you messed with, she thought, as her mind fled from her body and into the whirlpool of rapture Shier provided.   
  
********************  
  
  
Prue was in heaven. Not only was Auntie Paige singing to her, but she was also being rocked about the room just the way she liked. Now if only her Dada would get there, her happiness would be complete.   
  
Or that was what Paige thought Prue was thinking, as she cradled the smiling baby to her breast and danced across the room, humming a tune to herself.   
  
She had gone on a date with Glenn last night. She had really being looking forward to it, had even worn her best dress and her special make-up. Glenn had been the chivalrous gentleman (not too much as to get annoying but just enough to make her feel special), and she had really had a great time.   
  
But...  
  
She sighed, trying to put her feelings into words. She had first gone out with Glenn because she felt attracted to him. That was why relationships happened, right? Maybe it had been the rebel in her, or maybe it was simply that female gene women deny to posses, that compel them to fall for the tall, dark and handsome, *dangerous* type.   
  
But that was the problem, wasn't it?   
  
She had gone from one tall, dark dangerous guy to *another* much taller, much darker *definitely* more powerful guy. She looked down at Prue, and stopped singing. The baby frowned, and in her cuteness, seemed to be ready to ask her what was wrong. Paige walked up to the window and pushed the curtain aside.   
  
As she looked at the sunny day outside, she sighed again. "Never, *ever* listen to anything Aunt Paige has to say, Prue. She has a knack for doing the wrong thing".  
  
Her date had been splendid. Glenn had been great. And she--- well she could've well been on another planet for all she had contributed to the conversation. She had just sat there twirling her drink, dying for a lollipop to entertain herself with as Glen went on and on about Nepal and its many wonders.   
  
Any other time, she would've been thrilled to listen to him--- hell, she might've even offered him suggestions on what to take and not to take in his next trip (she had done quite a few hitchhiking in her time)... but last night, she just--- wasn't there.   
  
She was miles away, her mind threatening to leave her body and make sure everyone was safe at the manor, while Glenn sat across of her in the fancy restaurant, oblivious that his date was dreaming about someone else.   
  
There she went again...  
  
She felt like stomping her foot, but Prue's presence stopped her. Besides, this old house creaked every time she moved--- if she as much as jumped to get something off the top shelf of her closet, in would burst a worried family demanding to know what was wrong.   
  
And she didn't feel like seeing them right now. Not Leo, not Piper, not Cole.   
  
Especially not Cole.   
  
She cursed herself when her heart did a little jump inside her chest as she thought of him. It had all started about three weeks ago, or maybe it had been in there forever. Maybe the sudden flush she had felt when she had first laid eyes on him had not been the fear of Shax about to kill her, but the immediate response to his masculine presence.   
  
Maybe she had pushed it all into the back of her head when she had seen he was taken. She had been genuinely happy when she had learnt he and Phoebe were a couple, and truly horrified when she had first seen what Belthazor looked like.   
  
Not because she feared him, but because she feared herself. She felt disgusted by the thrill of the forbidden as she had laid eyes on the harrowingly real picture in the Book of Shadows.   
  
She closed her eyes, and threw her head back, letting Prue act as the balance to keep her from toppling over. She hated feeling like this! Half-remembered dreams and daytime fantasies only worsened the problem. Damn it!   
  
He wasn't even human. He was a demon, for crying out loud! But she knew better... she had seen him go to hell and back to protect (at first) Phoebe, and then Piper and her. She had seen him crying over the loss of his love, she had seen the way his eyes softened whenever he spoke of her--- she had been there when he had changed Prue's first diaper, and she had felt her heart melt at the delicious wonder when she had grown her first tooth.   
  
How could she love him? And worse, how could she *not* love him?   
  
Was it love? Was it lust? Was it a late high school infatuation? Falling for the rebel-with-the-bike syndrome she had seen so many damn times in kids half her age? She brushed her temples, trying to fight off the impending headache.   
  
She had tried telling herself that Cole belonged with Phoebe. She had forced herself to remember the happiness the two of them had shared, the way whenever they looked into each other's eyes the entire world seem to fade away. It hadn't worked.   
  
Every time she pictured them together, Phoebe's form twisted and changed into her own, and it was *herself* the one Cole promised undying love to, and it was *her* the one Cole kissed the breath out of and---  
  
"You look good together".  
  
She started at the sudden interruption, and Prue giggled as she jumped in Paige's arms. "Dada!". The baby stretched out her arms at Cole, who leaned by the door in such a casual manner, one would've thought he practiced that position every day.   
  
Paige fought the blush threatening to cover her cheeks, and refused to look at him in the eye until she was more in control of herself. Handling the baby to him and pretending to be busy rearranging her cosmetics in the vanity beside him was easy, and taking deep breaths, she steadied the thundering of her heart.   
  
Cole, oblivious to the turmoil going on beside him, cooed and tickled Prue, and the baby giggled in response, clapping her hands happily and giving him a sloppy kiss in the cheek. "My, aren't we happy today?".  
  
Waving Prue's little hand about, Cole turned to Paige and asked: "Piper's going out grocery shopping. She wants to know if you need anything?".   
  
Paige looked up before she could stop herself, and she found herself looking into the most cerulean eyes she had ever seen. Cole towered almost a foot above her, but she knew that if she stood on her tiptoes and he bent his neck, their lips would brush just the right way...   
  
Feeling the blush creeping up her cheeks again, she shook her head and looked away. "I'm fine".   
  
Cole looked at her questioningly, but said nothing. Paige wasn't sure she wanted to slap him or thank him for that. Instead, she grabbed her jacket and walked out of the room swiftly, refusing to acknowledge the fact that his manly scent was slowly beginning to permeate her entire bedroom. There went her good night sleep, she mused sadly, as her heels click-clacked on the hallway's parquet.   
  
"Where are you going?". His voice came from beside her, and she jumped a little. She had forgotten how quick and silent he could be when he wanted to--- damn him and his demonic stealth! Damn him and his gorgeous blue eyes and perfect body!  
  
"To take a walk. I need some air".   
  
She kept on going without looking back, because she knew that if she did, she would be blushing like a school-girl and stammering for words that would not come for as long as he was looking at her.   
  
"Paige?".   
  
His voice sounded urgent this time, and that stopped her. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself grounded, and turned slowly, finding Prue's eyes rather than his own.   
  
"What?". Her answer came out a little sharper than she had intended it to, but her blood was boiling at the sight of his powerful arms stretching as they held Prue close. She had seen those hands fire deadly electric bolts that had killed demons and saved their lives so many times. To see them now, tenderly cradling a gurgling baby was so anti-climatic, she had to consciously tell herself *not* to reach out and feel the potent muscles underneath misleadingly soft skin.   
  
"Is everything all right?".   
  
She nodded quickly, eager to get out of the suddenly claustrophobic room. Was it her or was the corridor getting smaller? She felt heat spreading through her as he move closer, so goddamned close she could actually *see* the way his sleeves brushed the inside of his wrists and she suddenly needed to run her fingers on that precise spot...   
  
"You sure? You look kinda pale".   
  
Oblivious... completely oblivious. Ignorant of Paige's feelings for him, Cole reached out and placed a hand against the young woman's forehead, trying to get a feel of her body temperature. He had barely graced her skin when she jumped away like a wildcat, a frantic look of despair in her blue-green eyes.   
  
"Don't!". Her cry rang out like thunder in the otherwise quiet house, and Paige knew she was overreacting but damn it!, when he touched her it had been as if an electric current was running down her spine.   
  
"Don't", she repeated, quieter this time. But the damage was already done. Cole had taken back his hand so quick, a distant corner of her mind wondered if he hadn't gotten whiplash, and was looking at her with so much hurt in his eyes she felt horrible for causing it.   
  
She tried to make it up to him, but she wasn't thinking straight and he was still too freaking near!. "I'm just--- I need--- I'll see you later", she finished dejectedly, ashamed at herself and her lack of control. Before he could utter another word, she ran downstairs and slammed the door behind her, hot, burning tears streaming down her cheeks.   
  
Upstairs, Prue giggled. And Cole tried to understand what the hell had just happened.   
  
  
************************  
  
  
Shier was nervous. That in itself was a strange occurrence--- a demon as old as he was knew better than to let emotions take control of his actions, but he couldn't help himself.   
  
Today would be the day he would meet Phax.   
  
And here he was, giddy as a teenager, shuffling on his feet as he waited for the proper moment to enter. Around him, the grunts and huffs of Phax's training session were loud and clear, and he wondered for the umpteenth time if this wasn't all a huge mistake.   
  
Jhiera and her charms usually chased the shadow of doubt away from his mind, but Jhiera wasn't around to assure him right now. As a matter of fact, she was right inside the next chamber, sparring with Phax.   
  
"It will perfect, Shier. It has to be. She's smart, and she'll know something's afoot unless we divert her attention... it has to be at the right time".   
  
Actually, Jhiera's plan was quite good. Ingrate himself with Phax, get her to lower her defenses. Make her trust him, and get her to tell him just what the hell made her so powerful... and how to destroy it.   
  
Shier had heard about such tales in the human world. Samson and Dalilah were well known amongst the demon world for the sheer craftiness with which Dalilah had discovered the one weak point for such a herculean warrior.   
  
He just hoped Phax hadn't heard of it too, or they could kiss their whole plan goodbye.   
  
He hadn't really planned all this.   
  
All he had wanted was to see the purple-eyes temptress one more time, and to finally get her out of his head for good. Honest, that had been all. But when he had seen her again, had laid eyes on that voluptuous body of hers--- he hadn't been able to contain himself.   
  
He knew it was a weak man's addiction the way he panted whenever she moved, but he was incapacitated whenever she looked at him from underneath her long eyelashes--- handcuffed to her like a dog in heat. A sad smile crept up his lips, and he shook his head slowly.   
  
Jhiera was too simple to actually realize the power she held over him. The beautiful demoness was young and impulsive and by far means too self-centered to notice that she could've asked him to defy the Source and he would've--- he was going to, now that he thought of it.  
  
It scared him, the fact that he was willing to risk an eternity of torture just to see the way her eyes lit up at the prospect of betrayal and treason. He had been surprised to see the depth of almost maquiavelican purity of her plan.   
  
Jhiera hated Phax, that much he knew. He also knew she was using him to get to her--- a means to an end if you will. But he didn't mind... he didn't mind the endless nights spent in her arms, or the supple pressure of her breasts against his skin when they coupled... whatever the case, he was just fine being her boy toy, and until he tired of her, he could keep on doing it.   
  
A cry of victory reached him from afar, and he realized that was his cue.   
  
Taking a deep breath and putting his best killer smile on, he walked into the chamber, and greeted his new lover-to-be.  
  
Because in order to get what they wanted, he needed to be close to Phax--- and what better way into her mind than through her body?  
  
  
**********************  
  
  
"She was feverish?", said Piper as she scrubbed the dishes and pans with a renewed strength, and brushed a few bubbles of soap away from her cheek.   
  
"Yes. When I touched her, she almost burnt me... but she looked normal".   
  
Cole handed her the next pile of plates, as he sat at the kitchen table, Prue sitting on the baby-chair and happily playing with a plush animal. Piper never halted in her dishwashing, but simply turned the water warmer.   
  
"I thought it was hormones, or maybe that time of the month--- but she isn't due for another two weeks".   
  
The way Piper's eyes widened and the sudden shriek that left her lips was enough to make Cole look up from Prue and at the young woman's offended eyes. "You can tell that?".   
  
Cole smiled sheepishly, and tapped his nose as if apologizing. "Much acuter than yours...".   
  
Piper ignored the dripping water falling from her wet hands as she kept looking at him. "You can--- every time--- both of us?", she finished, embarrassed beyond belief.   
  
The small nod that answered her sent her into a fit of blushing, and she had to hold on to the sink behind her to keep herself from falling. "Oh boy", she whispered more to herself than to anyone else, as she took the gloves off of her hands and placed them aside.   
  
"Yeah", he answered simply, unsure as to what else to say. What *could* he say, anyway, that wouldn't mortify Piper even further? He hadn't meant to tell her, but it had just come out. What could he possibly say to make her understand that he had been able to feel the changes in all three of the Halliwell sisters even before he became another member of this dysfunctional family?  
  
Piper sat in front of him and absently tickled Prue's belly with her right hand, her left folding at her chest as she rested on the stool. Cole could see the faint traces of a deep blush still flushing her cheeks, but he said nothing. Instead, he addressed the original issue that had brought them to where they were.   
  
"Anyway, Paige was--- I think there's something wrong with her".   
  
The mention of a potential problem was enough to shake Piper out of her stupor and into witch-mode. "Did she say anything weird?", she asked, a frown beginning to cloud her beautiful features.   
  
Cole shrugged helplessly, wondering if he wasn't looking into things much harder than he was supposed to. Maybe Paige hadn't been feeling well and had taken her discomfort out on him. Maybe he had just heard wrong, maybe---- so many maybes, so many doubts--- too many, he thought, as he realized he should be trusting his gut instinct rather than pushing it aside.   
  
And his gut was telling him something was wrong.   
  
"She just seemed--- off, somehow. Like she wasn't really there".   
  
He contemplated and then dismissed just as easily thoughts of a Body Snatcher and/or Shape Shifter. There hadn't been something wrong with Paige, just--- different. And besides, he should've been able to feel the faint itch of magic at work had he encountered a demon that morning rather than Paige herself.   
  
"Maybe she was coming down with something. The flu's been going around lately", offered Piper, all too willing to take the human-everything's-all-right-there-are-no-demonic-forces-at-work-here way out. But she also knew better.   
  
Not that she had felt anything per se, but in this house, particularly in this *family* things were rarely what they seemed to be.   
  
"Maybe", Cole replied, feeling the certainty they were forgetting something. When no warnings went off in his head, he wondered if he wasn't growing paranoid... could happen, with the life they were leading.   
  
"I'll talk to her when she gets home. We oughta ask her what's wrong before jumping to any conclusions".   
  
He nodded.   
  
The demon in him wanted solutions right away, but he knew things did not work out that way.   
  
Actually, the demon in him had been rather busy these days. For the past months it had laid dormant, almost lulled into a mere presence in the back of his mind, the roar of its anger no longer clouding his judgment. He wanted to believe he was finally gaining control over it, slowly acquiring the ability to draw strength from it without actually *changing* into him.   
  
But he knew--- all the nights he woke up drenched in sweat, panting for breath and clawing at non-existent bonds marring his skin, it was there. Waiting... planning, patiently waiting for him to call for him one more time.  
  
He shook his head.   
  
Whatever the case, he had vowed not to let the demon control him anymore. With Prue in the house and the fragile stability of the Halliwells at stake, he could not risk losing his tight hold on his own psyche, as much as it took out of him. He had promised never to let Prue see him as the demon he really was--- the red-skinned warrior would remain buried forever, and it would be Dooms Day before he shifted into his bulky alter ego again.   
  
But--- something was wrong. Something was bugging him, and for the life of him he could not say what.   
  
It was as if the storm was gathering, the few moments before lightning strikes--- the buzz of electricity, the thrill of power--- it was around him all the time, just on the edge of his senses, taunting him, drawing him in... It wasn't unpleasant, just... disturbing.   
  
Because he didn't know what it was, didn't know if it was dangerous and most of all, didn't know how to fight it if it proved to be unsafe.   
  
Besides, the memory of Phoebe was still fresh in his mind... he had been having dreams lately. Erotic dreams, to be exact. Memories, even, of the times when things were right and they were together, and they made love every morning when they woke up together in the bed he now slept in alone.   
  
Their last encounter amongst the black of the Underworld, in a world he had once called his own still came to him in the strangest of moments.   
  
He had seen the doubt in her eyes, and he hadn't been mistaken, he was sure of that--- she had wanted to reach out to him, had so desperately needed to take his hand and let him rescue her--- what had stopped her then?   
  
He felt like slamming his fist on the table, but he knew it would scare the living daylights out of Prue and get Piper all worried.   
  
He had been tempted to sneak out of the house during the night, and shimmer into the Underworld to bring Phoebe back. But something in Piper's eyes had stopped him--- the plea in her wide chocolate eyes, glistening with unshed tears that he suspected she did not know were there, was binding, and he had been unable to refuse her.   
  
One day, not so long ago, whatever Piper thought might not have made a difference. Back in the old days, he couldn't have cared less what Phoebe's sister's thought. Today--- he was whipped, and he knew it.   
  
Whatever they asked of him, he would do.   
  
And besides, he understood the fear in Piper, the underlying terror of losing yet another family member. It wasn't that Piper didn't love Phoebe--- as a matter of fact, the young woman had cried every night as she tried to understand just *why* was her family cursed to be taken down one by one as sitting ducks on a shooting range--- it was that she also loved *him*.   
  
Loved...   
  
The concept was so strange to him he sometimes had a hard time assimilating it. In a world where there were no friends and perfidy ruled, he had never known the concept of love. Maybe when he had been a small child, too small to remember now, his father had showed him what it meant to care.   
  
He couldn't even remember his face, much less any contact he might've hand with him. His mother had taken him away from his father and aside from their namesake, Cole felt no attachment to either of them.   
  
Why was he so drawn to this family? Why did he feel as if it was his need, his obligation to protect them?   
  
Maybe because Piper had taken him in with open arms--- maybe because in this family he had found what he had lacked for over a hundred years. Love, friends and support.   
  
But it was that same love that kept the ever-reducing Halliwell nucleus together that had torn him in between two women. How could he break the promise he had made to Piper, and ever look at her straight again? And how could he *not* break it, when it meant leaving Phoebe in the clutches of the Source?  
  
Ah, to be human... with all their flaws and lacks, they sure were the most complicated beings he had ever met.   
  
"Err, Cole?".   
  
He came to it with a start, the sharp sound of Piper's fingers snapping in front of his face bringing him back to his own self.   
  
"Sorry. Daydreaming...", he commented, shaking off the feeling of fragmentation as his mind rebelled against being pulled back into his body. In front of him, Piper shrugged and took Prue out of her baby-chair.   
  
"*Someone* needs to be changed. *You* need to rest. *I* am going upstairs and fixing this. You watch dinner, and if Leo comes in to pry around that pan, *you* are to scare him away. Capish?".   
  
Before he could actually answer her, Piper was out the door, and the sounds of her coos for Prue were lost amidst the thick wooden walls of the house. Left alone in the kitchen, Cole looked at the empty baby-chair sitting on the table, and shivered unconsciously.   
  
Why did he feel this would be the last time he would see his daughter?  
  
Brushing aside the ill mentality, he rose from his seat and walked up to the boiling pan of--- what were they eating tonight anyway? -- and leaned into the counter.   
  
There it was again, the hum of magic around him... it enveloped him like a protective cocoon, and the sounds of the house faded into the back of his mind as he closed his eyes and opened up his senses, trying to get a clear feel of it.   
  
There was a smell of strawberries in the air, and he let his uberhuman faculties spread outward through the manor.   
  
Keeping his path steady through the chaotic mass of ley lines that converged into this very house was enough to give him a headache, but he pushed forward and forced himself to continue. Tracing the line up from the basement and upwards, he wandered through the rooms following the tracks left by generations of Halliwells...   
  
Living room, dinning room, stairs...   
  
The portraits seemed to wink at his mind's eye as he passed by them, and he fought the urge to look back at them.   
  
Bathrooms, bedrooms... Piper and Leo's, his own, Paige's...  
  
What the hell?  
  
Backtracking, he focused his attentions on the bedroom that had once been Prue's and that now belonged to Paige. A considerable amount of ley lines met in it, but that wasn't what drew him to it.   
  
It was the distortion in them. Bent and folded within themselves, the clear indication that there was magic at work. Powerful magic, drawing its power from the lines themselves. Finding a pattern within the seemingly random twists, he retraced them back to the origin--- as if unrolling a knot, he kept looking until he found the one line that begun it all.   
  
And he gasped.   
  
Swirling atop of Paige's bed, a whirlpooling mass of crimson particles... spell!, screamed his mind as he was pulled back into his own brain. He had to tell Piper!  
  
"No, Belthazor. That is a secret between you and me".   
  
The voice came from behind him and even before turning around he knew what he would find.  
  
The last thought that ran through his head was that dinner was going to burn.   
  
  
******************  
  
  
Tbc...  
  
  
Remember this is *my* Universe... Paige did not go through super-witch mode, she did not have Phoebe to confide into. She has been thrown about like a ragged doll by the circumstances, and well, if you put adrenalike and Cole-the-Hunk-of-Man together, what do you get? Although I don't think we need adrenaline to want to do the hubbahubba with Cole, right? :0  
  
Guesses as to who the misterious voice of the last few lines was? I'm taking bets! 


	16. And so it begins

** Change of Heart **, chapter 16: And so it begins...  
  
by Lilian.  
  
lilian413@yahoo.com  
  
  
AN: So so sorry about taking so long to post this! Major author-crisis past (for now: had you asked me that a few weeks ago I would've run screaming for cover), you can thank the Two Towers (and its yummy Legolas) for this, 'k? *lol* But never fear, because chapters 17 *and* 18 are done, and as soon as Barb finishes with them they should be up for your reading pleasure.   
  
AN2: to all of those who voted on who the misterious voice was, here's your answer. Those who won, congratulations! Those who didn't-- well, there's always other cliffhangers I can send your way for you to guess!   
  
To Ashley: yeah, I know I like to drag things on for a while (ie. forever), but don't you worry. I think you're going to like the ending for this thing, and even more what's to come.   
  
To Jaki: how is that hat tasting? *grin*  
  
On with it!  
  
  
  
***************  
  
  
When Shier entered the room, he didn't know what to expect.   
  
He knew Jhiera was an excellent warrior (hell, he had *taught* her most of her moves back in the old days!), but then again, if half the rumors that circulated in the Underworld were true, Phax was a powerful force by herself.   
  
Which was why he was willing to keep on open mind as he entered the training chambers.   
  
What he didn't expect to see was the two women standing in opposite corners of the room, bloodied and sweating--- hadn't he heard Jhiera's triumphant cry just a few seconds before, he would've deemed this fight null... the way the demoness was clutching her injured arm to her side while brushing a steady trail of blood coming down her forehead could *not* be called a victory.   
  
Then again, Phax was in much worse shape.   
  
There was a limp in her right leg as she knelt down to retrieve a towel to clean herself with, and the gash running across her chest was oddly matching with the one she was sporting on her forearm. The way her shirt had been slashed open, revealing a sports bra and quite a whole lot more of flesh than was proper did not go unnoticed to Shier.   
  
As he and Jhiera had talked, he had come to imagine his own image of Phax. Having never met neither the Charmed Ones nor the newly born demon, he had little to base his view on--- and Jhiera's descriptions of her were obviously biased.   
  
She was gorgeous.   
  
Her black eyes were the most alluring thing Shier had ever seen, both in the way they swallowed every speck of light that came within range and because they indicated a level of power well above his own.   
  
And he loved power as much as he loved women.   
  
Casting one glance at Jhiera, he nodded slightly at her, and the purple-eyed demoness nodded in response. 'Don't fuck up', she mouthed at him before shimmering away.   
  
His temper flared. She didn't need to tell him what to do-- he was an upper level demon, for Hell's sake, he *knew* how to do this! It wasn't the first time he charmed his way into a demon's mind (be it male or female, he mused to himself, remembering his first sex escapades), and it wouldn't be the last.   
  
Besides, if the raised eyebrow on Phax's face was any indication, this 'assignment' of his was going to be much more fun than he first thought it would be.   
  
"Hello there", he tried, letting his powers stretch out from around him and towards her. One thing about Shier that not many people knew, was the fact that even if he was a full bred demon, as a result of one particularly nasty incantation he also had incubi blood in his veins. The vampires who feed on lust, provoking it in their victims before drinking it all in and killing them in the process. He did not bite (not usually, anyway), nor did he drink from people--- what he *did* do was arouse them, pushing inhibitions back and desires forth... and that was what he was doing right about now.   
  
It had been his way of escalating in the Underworld ladder since he could remember; it had yet to fail him, and he was betting it would not fail him now.   
  
"What the hell do you want?".   
  
Phax's answer was obscured with phantom pain, and the grimace that flashed across her features was so quick he almost missed it. Almost. And he knew bravado when he saw it--- she was in pain, and that made her all the easier to confuse. With pain already clouding her judgment, his own influence was masking itself and before she knew it, he would have her eating off his hand...  
  
"To help you".  
  
That earned him a harsh chuckle from her part and he couldn't help but notice the way her breasts seemed just about ready to pop out of her half destroyed bra. He didn't realize he had been staring until her hard words woke him: "Hey, heads up pervert".   
  
However, she made no move to cover herself, and that was proof enough that she liked what he was doing. Whether it was his own doing or the fact that what Jhiera had told him was true (that Phax hadn't gotten any in over a year) he wasn't sure. Either way, it suited him... he was quite the sweet talker, but when things got physical--- well, most men exaggerated their bedroom abilities. He didn't.   
  
A sudden flash of warmth flooded him as he realized this little woman held so much power within herself, that she'd probably be as much of a sport in bed as he was. And his interest rose several points when she turned away from him, picking up a discarded athame that lay behind her. Probably the cause of the many slashes and---- whoa, boy!  
  
As he stared at her flexing back where another deep wound was bleeding all over her black uniform, he watched curiously as the flesh mended itself. Not three seconds had gone by, and her back looked healed and unmarred as the day she had been born.   
  
When she turned back to him, athame in her right hand, he noticed with awe that the cut across her chest was beginning to heal too while the limp in her stance was less and less noticeable with each passing second.   
  
"Impressive", he breathed, wondering just what other powers she possessed that Jhiera wasn't aware of.   
  
Phax shrugged her shoulders and winced as the motion brought the edges of her broken rib into contact with each other. Yes, her healing powers were amazing--- but they were never fast enough.   
  
"You came all the way here just to stare at my breasts and comment on my recuperation?".  
  
Her tone was derisive this time, and Shier realized he was slipping. He hadn't counted on her healing this fast and as the curtain of pain receded, so did his own power... unfolding another wave of pheromones into the air, he walked up to her.   
  
She immediately took on a defensive stance, but he did not stop. Instead, he invaded her personal space as he kept on moving and she refused to step back. He towered almost a foot above her, but she was not intimidated... she returned his unyielding stare with one of her own, and Shier felt a thrill of excitement running through him.   
  
Demons who refused to back away were scarce these days--- killed in their younger days and disposed of by their own impatient mothers, they rarely made it into their twenties, much less into the Underworld itself. But there was no fear in her darkened eyes, he noticed, and he liked it. In fact, there was nothing there--- it was hard to read the black, swirling mass of clouds inside her pupils, but her body language spoke what her eyes did not.   
  
He didn't realize his hand had moved until her own fingers caught his wrist in a death grip. But he longed to run his fingers through those brown tresses of hers, he found himself thinking to his own surprise.   
  
"Don't touch me".   
  
There was real anger in her words, anger that had not been there before. But Shier was an expert in reading people, and he knew the anger in her was not directed at him--- it was anger at herself, anger that she was falling into his charms this easily. He had seen it happen countless of times before; how women struggled with their convictions, fought against their bodies' responses whenever he was near.   
  
He entertained himself with that, liked to watch their resolve crumble--- breaking them was the most fun part of his job. And something was telling him he would enjoy breaking this little spitfire more than anyone before.  
  
"You have blood on your lips", he whispered, and watched mesmerized as her nimble little tongue drew a crescent moon across her mouth, cleaning the last traces of the crimson liquid away. And leaving her luscious lips glistening in the process.   
  
"Here. Let me".   
  
He knew there wasn't any blood left, and he knew *she* knew, but he didn't care. He bent his neck instead and brushed their lips together. The electric current that flowed from her and through him was unexpected and before he knew it, he was crushing her to him like there was no tomorrow, the feel of her supple body pressed against his own sending his libido into overdrive.   
  
He had a meager second to process the whirlpool of emotions that sizzled through him like a hurricane, before a sharp, churning pain exploded in his right shoulder and as he reluctantly pulled away from her, he realized he had pushed her against the wall.  
  
He stumbled back a few feet, his shoulder stinging. He wasn't surprised to find the athame she had been holding until then firmly lodged in his collarbone, hardly any blood coming out. He *was* surprised at his own boldness, at the sheer lack of control he had experienced in the few seconds they had joined lips--- that had never happened before. And it was unsettling.   
  
"I said, don't touch me".   
  
Before he could actually gather his wits and catch his breath, she had shimmered away. But she didn't get very far, her body exhausted and drained of its energy. Shier heard her curse just from outside the training chambers, and smiled devilishly: he had seen her eyes just before she disappeared, and they had been wide and stunned--- there was no mistaking the flushing of her cheeks and the dilated pupils of her black eyes. She had felt it too, then.   
  
With a grunt, he ripped the knife out of his skin. It came out with a squishing noise, and had he been paying attention, he would've seen the green tinge of magic around the blade. But he didn't, and it disappeared quickly, never to be seen again.   
  
Instead, he held the athame in his hands, deciding on his next move.   
  
When another unladylike curse echoed around him, followed by a loud thump and the unmistakable stench of burnt flesh floated towards him, he shrugged (wincing as his shoulder stung) and made his way outside.   
  
Into more reluctant beds he had stolen, after all.   
  
Stepping outside, he took in Phax's delicious figure leaning against the rocky wall, panting for breath; a charred stain in front of her, the last remnants of some low-life demon who had chosen a bad time to cross paths with her.   
  
"Need a lift?", he asked as nonchalantly as possible, offering the athame back to her. Her black eyes shot venom at him, but he simply flashed her an open, inviting smile. "Hey, I'm being nice here!".   
  
Phax did not look away from his eyes as she took the blade from his hand. With a flick of her wrist it was strapped back on her hip, and she rose from the wall like a panther stretching. Her ebony eyes narrowed into slits, and Shier felt a cold hand of fear squeezing the bottom of his spine as she moved closer to him.  
  
There was power in knowledge, and he only knew what Jhiera had told him--- it was unsettling to be in her presence and not be sure of what she would do next. When she was close enough for him to notice the blood drying on her left cheek, she stopped, craning her neck and never once breaking eye contact.  
  
"Fuck off".  
  
Whispered through clenched teeth, the two words were like a slap to his wounded male pride and ignited a fire within him that threatened to consume him whole. As she turned on her heels and strode away from him, his fingers curled into fists against his powerful thighs, and Shier felt his control slipping.   
  
He didn't realize what he was doing until he reappeared in front of her, right in her way, so fast she never had time to react: she ran into him, and the shriek that erupted from her lips was muffled by his chest.   
  
Shier felt her body stiffening, felt it tightening muscles to push him away: his hands were quick and with a bare flick of his wrists, he had her back to his chest. In such close contact, he released a new wave of pheromones into the air: he had never done it before. By the time he was this close to women they were already in his grasp, and it took Phax exactly three heartbeats to release the pent-up tension in her muscles and relax against his embrace.   
  
She moaned deep in her throat as the chemicals worked their magic, and Shier grinned as he felt her pressing back against him.   
  
Now this was much better...  
  
"I think I'll do *you* then, Phax", he whispered into her ear, recalling her last words to him. He wasn't sure whether she nodded in acceptance or if she was offering him her neck, but quite frankly, he didn't care.   
  
He trailed a line of kisses through the soft path of her jugular vein, feeling the blood pulsing just an inch away from his pointed canines. Relying on the effect of his pheromones, he released her hands and took his own on an exploratory path across her waist and into the material of her shirt.   
  
Her fingers entwined themselves into his thick mane of hair, pushing his mouth against hers as she slowly began twisting in his hold:  
  
"Don't", he muttered into her lips, and she complied.   
  
As they kissed, Shier massaged knots of cramped muscles away and little by little, gained control over Phax: but not enough, it seemed. When his hand hovered right above her left breast, Phax seemed to take in a particularly sharp breath and Shier noticed the sudden flutter of her eyelids as she fought through the drug-induced haze of his effect on her: "I should kill you for this", she managed to say in between clenched teeth as exquisite sensations radiated from where his fingers traced patterns against her skin.   
  
She meant it, she really did, but the woman that was Phax liked his ministrations too much, and soon, that one spark of rebellion was swallowed by yet another wave of his pheromones and his pleasant touch against her sensitive breasts.   
  
"You should. But will you?", he teased her, scalding breath against her neck, impossibly cold fingers against the exposed flesh of her belly. How he loved to taunt women... they said the most amazing things in the throes of ecstasy, he mused, and noticed for the first time that he wasn't as nonplused as he would've liked to pretend by this whole affair of theirs.   
  
The result of her rubbing against him was evident, and the cattish smile that danced on Phax's lips was proof enough that she wasn't as far-gone as he would've liked her to be, given the circumstances.   
  
There was a small span of silence between them in which she considered his question--- and she settled for placing her own hand over his, drawing it deeper into the curve of her waist.   
  
"Maybe later", she said, turning completely and crushing their lips together in the most scorching kiss he had ever received. As they parted for air, Shier rested is forehead against hers, trying to calm his straying thoughts. "We both seem to be liking this too much", she added in between heaves, and she was rewarded with a throaty chuckle that sent delicious ripples of pleasure down her spine.   
  
She had forgotten what great lovers experienced demons could be...   
  
Too caught up in their own passion, they never saw the shadow cast into the corner of the room, where a fuming she-demon stood.   
  
They were long gone, shimmered away into Phax's quarters by the time Jhiera stepped out of the shadows, her purple eyes gleaming with fury.   
  
  
*******************  
  
  
"Can you run that by me again?", asked Cole, as he sat on the couch clutching an injured hand in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Across the living room, Piper took a deep breath, trying to calm her quickening heart.   
  
"We found you in the kitchen. You were unconscious. I don't know how you sliced your hand. Our dinner burned. I don't know where Paige is. That about sums it up".   
  
She knew she was being snappy, but quite honestly, she didn't care: they had just found a fainted Cole in the kitchen, drawn there by the smell of burning food; Paige was still missing and blocking out any and all attempts on Leo's part to find her and Cole had a weird-looking slice in the palm of his left hand.   
  
And Leo couldn't heal it, but that didn't bug her as much as the fact that with a cut *that* ugly, there should've been a lot more blood pooled on the kitchen floor than the few droplets they found when they ran into the room.   
  
Cole winced when he squeezed his hand a tad to hard, and watched in silence for a few moments as Prue sat on Leo's lap, seemingly very interested in what was going on around her.   
  
"I never saw who did it. I think I remember purple eyes, but that's not much to go on", he finished up saying, shrugging his shoulders in helplessness. The last signs of a headache were still pumping inside his skull, and it was as if a train was running around in circles inside his head just for fun.   
  
He tried to stand up, but the world swayed around him and he fell back onto the cushions with a grunt. Piper was by him in an instant, pushing his struggling form back. "Don't. You lost a lot of blood, and even demon stamina can't make up for that".   
  
He eyed her with steel eyes, but bit back the caustic remark that dangled from the tip of his tongue. She was right. No need to exert himself... but still, something was bugging him. Something he ought to remember, but that right now eluded him like a stray leaf in the wind.   
  
"Are you feeling better?", asked Leo, bobbing Prue up and down and making her cry out in delight. Cole watched the small baby for a while before answering, reminiscing on the way she reminded him of Phoebe... they had the same laugh. The same dimples appeared on their cheeks when they drew their lips into a giggle. Not so long ago, it had been painful to watch. Now, it was also a reason to keep living.   
  
"Yeah. I just need to get my bearings back together".   
  
Prue seemed to be listening to his words as she attempted to crawl off of Leo, and Cole offered her his healthy hand to help her bridge the distance in between the chair where Leo sat and the coffee table, a place where Prue attached herself to for the space of a few seconds before falling flat on her bottom.   
  
A ghost of a smile graced Cole's lips as he watched his daughter's attempts at standing up straight. "Did you try Paige's cell phone?", he asked to no one in particular, not looking away from Prue.   
  
It was Piper who answered him, standing by the phone in the hall: "Five times. She turned it off".   
  
He was worried about her. Paige had left in such a hurry, after talking with him back in the bedroom corridor-- he was still puzzling over what had went wrong in that particular chat of theirs, and was still drawing a blank.   
  
And he hated not knowing where she was. He had obviously been attacked by someone who did not want him dead (or otherwise he wouldn't be here right now), but hated him enough to inflict upon him a painful wound and extract a good amount of his blood. And he knew what that blood was *for*...  
  
"Damn it", he muttered, trying to keep Prue's young ears unaware of his cursing, but still feeling the need to vent. Why had he been so careless? To try and do a complete swab of the house with no one to watch his back-- that was a fledgling's mistake. He was a one hundred and seventeen years old demon, for God's sake! He should've known better than to let his guard down like he had!  
  
Something prickled in the back of his mind, but it was gone before he could grasp its full meaning. Something concerning the mind scan he had done of the house...  
  
"Maybe we should check the Book of Shadows", offered Piper, fidgeting with her feet as she leaned by the door, watching her family. She was also going nuts with this situation: Paige had been gone for a good five hours now, and even if Leo assured her she was fine, this Cole ordeal had her on her toes.   
  
Besides, if what she and Cole had talked about before was true, Paige was going through something---   
  
Some demon (or worse) had crawled into their house, hit Cole over the head with one of her most precious cooking pans and then proceeded to do some weird mojo on him in their *own* kitchen! The nerve! She had smelt the sage from afar, and the telltale fumes where all over the room--- and the worst thing was, they didn't even have a clue as to who it could be!  
  
"And look for what? Purple-eyed somethings? That should narrow it down to, oh, every page!".   
  
Cole's hands flew in the air in frustration, and he flinched in pain as his left palm protested against the sudden move. Grunting under his breath, he brought them down slowly, but Piper noticed the red stain spreading over the gauze before he could tuck his hand away inside his jacket.   
  
"But we have to do something!", said Leo, as he paced up and down the living room, brushing a hand through his cropped short hair. Piper said nothing, and opened the first aid kit with one hand while motioning for Cole to give her his hand with the other.   
  
For a split second it was like Cole wasn't going to do it, but Piper shot him one stern glare and the tall half-demon relented hesitantly. She sat beside him, and proceeded to change the bandages, wincing as she laid eyes on the nasty looking wound one more time.   
  
"Waiting for Paige to get here seems the only choice", she said in a low voice, her dark hair curtaining her features as she bent a little to adjust the white gossamer over Cole's hand.   
  
As she spoke, a cold hand of fear settled itself in the base of her spine, and she shivered unconsciously. Cole caught up rather quickly, ever perceptive when the Halliwell's were concerned.   
  
"What is it?", he asked her, tilting up her chin with his free hand. Piper cast a glance at Leo, who was watching them with a strange look on his face--- she softly pushed Cole's hand away and brushed her exposed arms as if chasing the cold away.   
  
"I just feel strange. Like someone had walked over my grave".   
  
The words were already out of her mouth before she realized the gloomy disposition, and trying to make up for it, she flashed her husband a bright smile. "But I'm sure it's nothing".   
  
Of all the times for Piper to dismiss a precognitive feeling... this was the worst.   
  
  
*************************  
  
  
Belthazor had been an unusually easy catch. When she had first shimmered into the Halliwell house, she had fully expected him to fight back--- hell, she had been there when he had fought the Horde of the Four all by himself, had seen the way his lips had curled in the most sadistic of grins at the sight of blood and flesh, had seen him make his way through odds that were impossible by sheer strength---  
  
She had been prepared for an epic battle, and in the end, she only had to club him in the head!  
  
Was this what one of the most powerful demons of all time had become? A quiet, whimpering mockery of what he had once been, pampered and useless?   
  
It was utterly disappointing.  
  
But she had gotten what she had gone up there to get, and that was what mattered, right?   
  
Why did she feel--- wronged, then?   
  
The demon in her was expecting a fight, had tasted the thrill of the battle. Belthazor's strength and power was legendary in the Underworld, and Jhiera wanted to see him in action. And she had to go home empty handed.   
  
Talk about disappointments.   
  
She had arrived just in the nick of time. With the spell she had cast (the favor the Dark Priestess owed her was paid) working underneath the hum of magic the Halliwells possessed, passing off as static, and only if you were listening very hard, she was pulling the strings of the otherwise almighty family. And having the time of her life in doing so.  
  
She had been watching them for quite some time now... ever since Phax had first been appointed into her care, she had taken trips to the Surface to spy on them. She had even followed Belthazor once, on a walk through the park. Conjuring up glamour on herself had been easy, and the dog had only added to the picture perfect image of a young business woman taking her pet out for a stroll.   
  
She had laid eyes on the baby, the rumored baby that had started all of this: she hadn't seemed like much, all chubby and gurgly and almost--- pudgy. She had left before Belthazor had shaken off the stupor of shaking hands with her, a soft smile tracing her lips.   
  
That was why she had asked Litonia to cast the spell in the first place: things were dull, she was bored and hey, if she could both get some entertainment *and* mess with the Halliwell's heads at the same time, she was in!   
  
Although she had never shown any interest in the Charmed Ones, after Phax she couldn't help but be drawn to this family of witches that seemed to make such good demons.   
  
She hadn't gotten to see much: as she arrived into the kitchen, she had spotted Belthazor just standing there by the sink, eyes closed, head back almost as if--- sniffing. And she realized in a heartbeat what he was doing: he was tracing her spell, trying to find the source of it.   
  
And she couldn't well let *that* happen, now could she? So, she hit him over the head with a pan (quite un-glamorous, but still, it served the purpose). And there she was, standing over a fallen warrior: what a perfect chance to terminate him, get in the Source's good graces and win a priceless reputation all in one swift blow of her hand.   
  
But she hadn't done it. What would be the fun in that? Instead, she had quickly knelt by the tall half-demon, taking just a second to admire his features and realize that the gossip really *didn't* do him much justice, and taking her athame from it's place on her hip, slashed his hand.   
  
He grunted in pain, but had not woken up.   
  
And now she had what she wanted, she mused, twirling the small vial of blood in her fingers. The crimson liquid swirled inside almost like it had a mind of its own, and Jhiera could feel the pull of power within it. Belthazor's blood got her a step closer to fulfilling her plan, and in the end, that would make all the disappointments worth it.   
  
Now, if only Shier could do what she had told him to.   
  
The thought of that demon sent an unsought pang of anger through her. She had been there when the witch had all but wrapped herself around him, and it wasn't supposed to bother her this much--- after all, if it hadn't been for her, the witch and Shier would've never crossed paths in the first place!   
  
She had all but pushed him into Phax's bed, and that was what she wanted, right? Then why in the hell did she feel like strangling the little bitch with her bare hands for touching her man?  
  
She only realized the possessive pronoun when it had already left her lips.   
  
Her man--- Shier had never been her man. She might've been his woman back on the old days, but never once had she dared to think of him as her anything. Sure, right now he was her toy, her means to an end... but nothing more! Surely she could control herself whenever he was concerned!  
  
A sudden flash of them together speared her mind's eye and her hands became fists, her long fingernails drawing perfect crescent moons in her palms.   
  
He didn't have to look *that* happy to be with her, did he?   
  
She grunted out loud, needing to vent some of her frustration. Setting the small vial of blood inside her clothing, lest she destroy it in her rampage, she strode away from her room, looking for something to vent her frustrations upon.  
  
Hopefully, that something would scream loud enough to shun the treacherous whispers of her heart.   
  
  
********************  
  
  
"Okay, I'm calling the police".   
  
Piper was halfway towards the phone when Cole's hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.   
  
"And you're telling them *what*, exactly? That a witch has gone missing? Darryl already knows, what else can they do?".   
  
Piper stomped her foot into the floor and waved her hands about: "I *know* that, okay? But she's been gone for far too long and I don't know what else to do!". Luckily, she had learned to control her exploding power a long time ago, lest the Halliwell household be deprived of *more* of its furniture.   
  
Needing something to occupy herself with, Piper picked Prue up from her spot on the floor and began pacing up and down the lobby, trying to convince herself that Paige was okay. The baby seemed very happy at this new turn of events, and giggled as Piper bounced her a little in her stride.   
  
"Piper", Cole began, but stopped when the young woman froze him on his spot with just one look. In her eyes there was the uttermost terror that something had gone wrong--- Cole knew it, because he knew Piper's eyes were mirroring his own.   
  
Paige knew better than to keep them uninformed like this... either she had lost her cell signal (which meant she was out of reach, which was not good), or that she didn't have her cell phone at all (which was worse, because Piper had checked (three times) and it wasn't in her room or anywhere else in the house for that matter).   
  
Cole turned to Leo and made 'come on' motions with his hands as Piper's back was turned. When all else fails, turn to the husband...   
  
"Honey, Cole's right. Paige is a grown woman". As Leo walked up to the nervous witch and tried to hug her, offering the comfort she so needed, Piper brushed him off and shook her head. "No, Leo, something's wrong, I just know it".   
  
Prue was happily sucking on one of Piper's locks of hair and she imitated Piper's frown rather well. She seemed to sense the uneasiness in the house and had been an unusually good girl for the past few hours: remaining just where they left her (that meant no shimmering away) and she didn't even protest when she was torn away from her plush animals and taken into the self-proclaimed headquarters for everything demonic in the manor: the attic.   
  
"I would've sensed if something bad happened to her. I'm connected to all of you, remember?", tried Leo, but reminding Piper of things she already knew was not the way to go. She was restless; hyper, if you'd like--- and her gut was telling her something was terribly wrong with Paige.   
  
"You've been cut off before, Leo. It's not making me feel any better", she all but snapped at him, her chocolate eyes flashing with anxiety. And Leo *had* been stopped from feeling them all before, and that usually meant Danger with a capital D.   
  
"Besides, it's been *hours* since she left. It's dark and late and dangerous and oh my God, what if the Source has her? What if he's torturing her while we're standing here doing nothing? I can't loose her, Leo, I just CAN'T!".   
  
The last word came almost as a wail and she buried her head in her husband's chest, letting him embrace her. Prue squirmed in Piper's hold, and Cole took her from Piper's trembling arms. When Prue was removed, Piper encircled Leo's waist with her arms, and sobbed quietly into his shirt, while Leo caressed her long hair, whispering soothing words in her ear.   
  
"Piper, you won't. We won't let it happen", he said, hugging her tight to him. "Not again", he added as an afterthought, noticing the shadow that had settled upon Cole's face at his words.   
  
"Bubu? Paip-paip bubu?", cooed Prue, watching Piper and Leo with curious eyes. 'Paip-paip' was her nickname for Piper, brought upon the small child by the constant pleas of 'come on, honey, just say Piper. Can you say Piper? Piiiiiper?'.   
  
Cole kissed her small cheek feeling his heart surge with love he had felt only once before. "Yes baby, Piper's hurting. But we'll make it better, won't we?", he told his daughter, flicking the tip of her nose with his fingers. Prue smiled at him, and clapped her hands together.   
  
"Yay!", she gurgled, reciprocating Cole's gesture and placing a wet, sloppy kiss on the tip of his nose. Cole laughed, and his deep voice mingled with Piper's faint giggle as she looked at father and daughter from the safe cocoon of Leo's arms.   
  
That was when the door downstairs opened and a very familiar voice called out: "I'm home!".   
  
Piper squealed as Paige strode into the house, and ignoring Cole's and Leo's looks of 'I told you so', all but flew down the flight of stairs, brushing the last remnants of tears away from her eyes.   
  
"Oooooh, you're in so much trouble right now, missy! How dare you keep us wondering for so long!".   
  
Cole and Leo strode down the stairs at a much more leisurely pace, a small compromising smile passing between them. They heard Paige's mumbled apology, and by the time they got downstairs, Paige was still suffering the consequences of Mother Hen Piper and her hugs.   
  
"'I'm sorry' isn't getting me out of this one, is it?", she asked the two men with a smirk gracing her ruby red lips. As Leo walked by Cole and tried to frown upon the youngest Halliwell and failed miserably at it, Piper stepped back from the hug but did not release her: "Oh no, a thousand 'I'm sorry's wouldn't do it! This is major groveling time for you, missy-Paige!".   
  
Cole noticed Paige looking at him funny, and tried to smile reassuringly at her. So, that little blow-up of hers was still haunting them? They were going to have to work through that as soon as they could, he thought, but right now, Piper needed to be reassured than her sister was just fine and not lying in a ditch somewhere.   
  
He chastised himself for such grim thoughts, and instead changed Prue from arm to arm. His quick eyes did not miss the sudden raising of eyebrows from Paige's part as her blue-green eyes followed the baby. Being the one holding her, he missed the fact that Prue's eyes were just as well focused on the young woman, never once wavering from the fair skinned witch.   
  
"I really *am* sorry you guys", said Paige, sticking her tongue out as Piper pulled her black bangs in a silent (but albeit a little painful) reprimand. "I met this wonderful guy while I was downtown, and we got talking and next thing I know it's already eleven. Then I got stuck in the worst traffic jam you could imagine", she continued, and pulled her small cell phone from her purse. "Stupid thing ran out of battery", she finished, waving it around for all to see.   
  
Piper nodded a few times, her hand draped across Paige's shoulder all along. "I was worried about you, sis", she said, her voice quivering as tears (of happiness this time) welled up in her eyes. Before she could let them out freely, though, Leo placed a hand on Paige's shoulder, his own relief shinning clearly through his stance.  
  
"You really had us freaking out for a while".   
  
Cole saw Paige wince at his words, and decided she had had enough: "Come on, the important thing is that she's okay. Just don't scare us like that again, okay?", he ended, looking directly at Paige. That was why he saw the flash of uncertainty flying across her eyes, but it was gone so quick he thought he had imagined it. Besides, Paige's gaze once again landed on Prue, questioning and curious.   
  
"Sure", she said, a frown clouding her beautiful features.   
  
It was then that Piper noticed for the first time that Paige would not look away from Prue. "What is it, honey?", she asked her, casting glances back and forth between the youngest additions to her family.   
  
Paige said nothing for a few seconds, and instead approached Cole and Prue with slow, measured steps. Stopping a few feet away from them, she craned her head to the side and squinted her eyes a little, as if looking for something.   
  
"Paige?", asked Leo, feeling the beginnings of an itch spread through his mind, the first indications that something was not quite right.   
  
Paige shook her head. "It can't be", she muttered almost to herself. When Cole raised a hand to place on her shoulder and steady her, as she appeared about to faint, Paige jumped back a few feet.   
  
"Don't touch me".   
  
Those words were the exact ones she had spoken to him just this morning in the corridor, and Cole felt a stab of pain in his heart as Paige rejected his touch for the second time in the day.   
  
"Paige?".  
  
Piper's voice was lower this time, the worry creeping back into her skin and making her approach the younger woman and leave Leo's comforting embrace.   
  
"She--- I--- Prue?", whispered Paige, her eyes flying wide open and taking another step back. Piper mistook her reaction for--- well, she couldn't say for *what* exactly, but whatever it was, it wasn't the right thing.   
  
"Of course that's Prue, silly. You saw her just this morning! Why did you look like you've seen a ghost?".  
  
Paige averted her gaze from Prue and Cole, and settled it on Piper. Unbelieving, her finger pointed at the father and daughter, her mouth opening and closing several times. Piper moved closer to her, trying to calm her from whatever it was that was wreaking havoc on the young woman's mind.   
  
But Paige slapped her hands away, and instead, a strange grin curled her lips.   
  
"Well I'll be damned", she mumbled, and as she moved back into the light of the foyer, Cole noticed for the first time a hand print of silver adorning her shoulder. His quick mind replayed a similar scene, when *he* had first shook hands with Leo... That meant---  
  
"Piper, look out!".   
  
His warning came a second too late, because Paige was already raising her hand and throwing a fireball at Piper. Being at pointblank range, Piper could only stare at the flames emerging from Paige's fingers that threw her hard against the farthest wall.   
  
As she slid down, unconscious, she never saw how Paige's form shifted and changed, turning into that of a very familiar sister.   
  
"Hello, family. Miss me?", said Phax, grinning like a Cheshire cat who had just walked her way into the henhouse.   
  
Which in a way, was exactly what had just happened.   
  
  
  
************  
  
  
TBC... 


	17. Rekindling old flames

** Chapter 17: Rekindling old flames **  
  
by Lilian.   
  
lilian413@yahoo.com  
  
AN: *Pout* Now where did all my faithful readers go? I guess I had it coming for keeping you guys on the edge for so long--- I understand if you've lost interest... I now *I* would've! I do hope that with this quick updates I might me able to catch your attention again!  
  
To Jaki: in hopes you've still got some footwear. Any other clothing items look at you funny and you tell me, I'll speed up my updating! (edited to say: is this fast enough for you? *grin*)  
  
To Kismet: thank you SO much!! I think I'm blushing...  
  
Read on and enjoy!  
  
  
***********************  
  
  
"Phoebe!".  
  
Cole's hurried cry was cut short as another fireball whizzed past him and he was forced to jump aside to avoid getting hit. In front of him, Phoebe only smiled, and that one curl of her lips sent shivers down Cole's spine.   
  
"How many times do you need to hear it, love? Phoebe died a long time ago", she said, never once taking her eyes away from the stunned half-demon she had once loved. Or from the suddenly bawling baby in his arms. "The name is Phax now", she continued, calling forth two more fireballs and firing them in rapid succession at Leo and Cole. Both men jumped out of the way, Cole's movements slow and careful as he took great care in trying to soothe Prue while still keeping an eye on Phoebe.   
  
"And I believe you have something of mine".   
  
The hairs on the back of Cole's neck stiffened as he realized what she meant, and simply clutched Prue tighter to his chest. "Phoebe, this is Prue. Our Prue", he tried, desperately looking for a flicker of recognition in those black eyes of hers.   
  
He found none.   
  
She advanced on him, strangely calm in her actions as she laid eyes on the baby she had thought dead for such a long time. "Wrong, Belthazor. She was never yours". Her voice was cool and low, but Cole had learned to read her a long time ago and was not fooled. There *was* a stiffness to her as she spoke of their daughter--- a long forgotten regret, maybe?  
  
Through the corner of his eye, he watched Leo scurry towards a still unconscious Piper and begin healing her. At least they were both safe, he told himself, suddenly feeling *very* exposed with Prue's weight in his arms. The baby cried and he longed to comfort her---  
  
"Hand her over", said Phoebe, stretching out a hand towards him, a fireball sizzling in the other. And as Cole looked into her black eyes, he found none of the love he so desperately needed to see. Instead, a burning fire of anger, of hatred and grief, all wrapped around black magic that called to his own demon.   
  
He had hoped Prue would be enough to shake the Source's hold off of Phoebe. He couldn't have been more wrong. Not only had Phoebe demanded he return their daughter to her, but she threatened to burn the house down with all of them inside if he didn't. As the last embers of hope in his heart began to die, he was forced to shimmer out of the way of an oncoming fireball.   
  
Prue squealed in fear right in his ear and for a few seconds he was deaf to outside sounds. When he reappeared, behind Phoebe, he noticed she hadn't moved. And it irked him, that she was this confident in her abilities to let him shimmer behind her.   
  
"I won't repeat myself. Do it, or die".  
  
Her voice was freezing in its lack of feeling, and Cole did not answer. Instead, he cast a wayward glance at Leo and the whitelighter nodded at him, telling him Piper was okay. But still a bit dazed, he noted, watching as the young woman tried to sit up and ended falling into Leo's lap again.   
  
"Phoebe, please! You have to listen to me!", he said, but Phoebe was much too occupied watching him watch Piper. For a split second he thought he saw a flash of sadness pass through those dark eyes of hers, but it was gone too fast for him to make sure.   
  
"And still you put her above me, Belthazor. Seems absence has not made the heart grow fonder", she murmured, and stood still for a few heartbeats. She then shook her head to free it from such thoughts, and glared at Cole once again, her hatred renewed.   
  
"You cannot believe that, Phoebe. I love you", he said, surprised at the easiness with which those three little words rolled from his throat. And then he found himself wondering if that was still true--- and to his despair, it was. He loved her, with his heart, with his soul-- he loved her like he had loved no other before, and her disappearance had only stalled the deep passion that now howled within him.   
  
She laughed in his face, mirth dancing in her ebony pupils. "You do? How touching! And here I am serving the Source! My, why didn't you tell me this sooner, Belthazor? I would've seen the error of my ways and ran back into your arms a long time ago!".   
  
He didn't know what hurt the most... her stinging words, or the sarcastic tone she used to speak them with. Maybe both, and the fact that she smiled all through her speech, clearly pleased with the devastating effect her words caused upon him.   
  
Prue sobbed quietly against his shoulder, hiding herself from the world. And when Phoebe's eyes landed on the baby's small frame, a touch of tenderness lit up her stone features, and Cole was reminded of the woman he loved. And the embers of hope flared back into a roaring fire, as he realized that there was nothing in this world (magical or otherwise) that could defeat motherly love.  
  
"She's alive... my little Prue".   
  
The whisper came to him like a slap. Alive? Of course she was alive? Had Phoebe thought he would let their own daughter die? Had she lost that much faith in him?   
  
Prue disentangled herself from Cole's shoulder, and turned to look at Phoebe, tears running down her chubby cheeks and her beautiful cobalt eyes clouded with pain: "Mama?", she whispered, and Cole's heart broke at the sheer pain in that single word. Phoebe did not answer, but anger had fled from her features and left an unreadable expression behind. The fires in her eyes dwindled down and she seemed almost--- soft when they looked back at Prue.   
  
  
****************  
  
  
In the Underworld, a small sphere of light exploded in blinding sparks, as Phoebe's soul reacted both to the sight of her daughter and the one word she thought she would never hear. Where it sat atop a pedestal, it began hovering above the scarlet cushion as its inherent power soared.   
  
No less than a second later, the Source's form flamed into the room. And suddenly, the bright light didn't seem as bright anymore, and the shadows it had chased away began making their way back into the walls and corners of the chamber, feeling their master's presence.   
  
"Going somewhere, little Witch?".   
  
His voice was loud and dripping with amusement, and the globe changed colors as if answering.   
  
"Of course I knew. I see everything, after all", said the Source, the darkness of his hood not parting at the brilliance coming from the sphere. Most unnatural, but there was nothing to be called 'natural' about the Lord of the Underworld.  
  
His massive hand raised from his robes, and the skin shone red with the light of the torches. The soul withered under the shadow of his hand and the glow diminished, tired and spent.   
  
"Now that is better, is it not?", cooed the Source, with a voice that was strangely soft. Pushing the hovering globe down was not hard, but it wasn't easy either. It resisted for a few seconds, finding the deep, hidden remnants of strength to fight back. But it could never win. Not against the Source, not when she was so very weak. In the end, when the Source's hand pushed it back down against the soft cushion, a long sigh echoed across the room, coming from nowhere and everywhere at once. It was the sound of defeat.   
  
"She is alive, Witch. Has been for all this time. Now spend your time wondering what Phax will do with her once she gets her".   
  
He laughed, a despicable, horrifying laugh when the soul shone once again, angered. "Oh yes. She will soon return to me like she was meant to, and your last premonition will come true. And then I will have no more use for you, except maybe as a plaything".   
  
The Source caressed the sphere of light almost lovingly, and it quickly changed colors from green to purple and to blue, as if disgusted.   
  
Laughing, the Source flamed out, leaving a broken soul behind.   
  
  
*********************  
  
  
Cole had thought they had finally made contact. Phoebe had remained still for a few seconds, eyes blank, hands shivering... But then, chased away by demons of her own, Phoebe's eyes turned to ice and hardened to steel.   
  
But Cole had seen it, he knew it was there: if only he could find a way to exploit that!   
  
As he sought to find something, a speck of longing in her black eyes, he noticed a lack of life in them that hadn't been there before. When he had first seen her as this twisted version of the woman he loved, back in the alley, her eyes had all but shone with emotions, with feelings too strong to be kept bottled up inside. And when he had followed her into the caverns of the Underworld, she had reacted lashing out at him, desperate, emotional... and doubt had been there. She had almost reached out to him, almost taken his hand when he offered it to her. Cole had recognized the inner struggle, the biting of her bottom lip, the trembling of her voice as she ordered him to leave...  
  
None of that was present now. It was as if she was an empty carcass, devoid of anything but hatred and anger and--- the veil closed and Cole was cast out. Panting for breath, he recovered his bearings and tried to make sense of what he had seen. But how could he, when he only had half of the puzzle? So many things didn't make sense!   
  
"What happened to you?", he asked her, needing to know. Because if they knew, then they might be able to fix it. And he needed a place to start, and what better place than the beginning? If only Phoebe would tell him... if only she would open up to him, like she once had, they could most certainly work it out. Because he knew, in his heart of hearts that this was all just a huge misunderstanding!   
  
Phax just looked at him for a few moments, unresponsive. So many possible answers... you happened to me, she wanted to say, you and fate. But he wasn't asking about that. He was asking about something else entirely. And then her face lit up in understanding: "Oh, you mean this?", she said, opening the first few buttons of her top and pushing it aside. The exposed skin of her upper left breast beckoned Cole's eyes, and there was not a single person in the room that did not notice the sudden hunger that raided his eyes at that particular sight.   
  
Her palms a few inches apart, she framed a small portion of skin and concentrated. A small glitter appeared in the space in between her hands and the air rippled and changed. It was as if someone was slowly opening a drape, letting the first rays of sunshine into a darkened room. And then she groaned in pain, and the light flickered and died, and instead, they found themselves looking at a gaping hole where her heart should've been. Black and yawning like a beast awakening from slumber, when Phoebe let her hands fall it wavered and disappeared, leaving soft, perfect skin behind. But they had all seen it, and it was now ingrained in their memories with fire and brimstone.   
  
"No", whispered Cole, feeling as if someone had suddenly pulled the floor from under him. And he really did feel as if he was falling, and only when the sudden impact of his knees against the debris covering the floor registered in his tired brain did he realize he had sunk to his knees.   
  
"Oh yes, lover. He did it right after you left. After beating me within an inch of my life, of course".   
  
Cole shook his head in denial. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be! But he had seen it: where a shinning light of purity should've shone, where the star that was her soul should've been, there was nothing but a hole. A hollow heart; if lacking a soul was not a heart anymore...  
  
"Cole? What is that? Can somebody explain to me what's going on?". Piper's voice came from afar, almost as if they weren't even in the same room anymore. Cole felt his world crumbling down around him, falling into pieces and he could only watch mesmerized, as Phoebe released the hem of her top and let it fall back into place... and still, right on the edge where cloth met skin, Cole could see the swelling of her breasts and the place where her soul should've been.   
  
"What's going on, big sis", began Phax, turning away from Cole and facing Leo and Piper with a grin that at any other time would've made hope flare in their hearts. Now, it only made her black eyes shine even higher, and her blood red lips framed her long canines, unfit for a mortal mouth but so very right in a demon's, "is that the Source has removed the one thing that stopped me from killing you. Which is why I'm here, by the way", she added as an afterthought, as if making clear that they were not going to leave this room alive.   
  
Piper's brow wrinkled in confusion, and she squeezed Leo's hand for dear life. "Leo? What does she mean?", she asked, feeling the sudden hands of fear gripping at the edges of her consciousness. When Leo did not answer, she looked up into those beloved eyes of his, and what she saw in there made her shiver and tremble. Leo looked away before answering her.   
  
"Her soul, Piper. The Source has removed her soul. He took the Good within her, and with it, what made her the Phoebe we knew".  
  
Appalled, Piper turned away from her husband and towards the smiling woman standing amidst what was once known as their reception hall. "That's impossible", she breathed softly, leaning back into Leo's chest for support that for once, wasn't there. The whitelighter made no move to comfort his wife, and instead, he shed one tear for yet another charge of his that he had lost.   
  
"As impossible as reincarnated witches and half-demons and dead angels? Come on, honey, are you trying to tell me you still don't believe in magic?".   
  
Piper simply shook her head, refusing to believe. "No. Phoebe, I know you're still in there. Please, listen to me!". Her voice rose as she spoke, her frantic need to reach the unreachable getting almost too big to bear.   
  
She was not going to believe it. Because it couldn't be true. Because if it was, that meant Phoebe was lost to them, and she was not loosing another sister. She wasn't. Phoebe was there, she just had to make her see!  
  
Phoebe raised her hands. That single move made the small inverted triangle in her forearm come to life, and they watched fascinated as it seemed to snake around her skin with a life of its own. The brand of the Lord of the Underworld pulsed with magic of its own, the elven marking erasing the last traces of doubt Cole might've had.   
  
"You are not her anymore, then". He rose on shaky legs to his full height, Prue's cries silenced now. He whispered a few words in Prue's ears, and the baby listened intently. Not more than a heartbeat later, she was shimmering away from Cole's arms and into Leo's awaiting hands.   
  
"Take them both away, Leo. This is my fight, not yours".   
  
Any and all protests from either Leo or Piper were silenced by the look Cole sent their way. Without arguing, Leo grabbed Piper's hand and orbed away. Piper shrieked, indignant and her cry mingled with Phoebe's as she watched her daughter (and prize) slip right through her fingers. Just a heartbeat before the orbing lights disappeared, Piper made her choice and threw herself out of the orb before it was completed, landing with a huff on the floor.   
  
"Like hell it's your fight. She's *my* sister, damn it, and I'm sick of you and Leo thinking I can't defend myself!", she screamed at Cole, rising to her feet and flashing him a glare that would've sent other men cowering. But Cole was not any man (he wasn't even a *man*) and was not fazed. Instead, he lashed out at her. Worry made him angry, and anger made him mean: "PIPER! get out of here NOW! You won't last a second against her! She's too far gone for you to reach!".   
  
Rather than listening to Cole (and common sense), Piper strode towards him purposefully, and with strength Cole did not know she had, slapped him. Hard. As his hand cradled his injured cheek, he turned wide eyes towards Piper, surprise dancing in his pupils. "Don't tell me what to do, Cole. I am a Charmed One, for God's sake. And I *will* bring her back, because I owe it to her!".   
  
By some unspoken understanding between them, Cole knew Piper meant not only Phoebe, but Prue too. Piper owed it to Prue to protect Phoebe, and she had failed once at it. And she wasn't doing it again. As he opened his mouth to try and convince her to flee, he noticed her chocolate eyes brimming with unshed tears of frustration and anger, as the fate of her family once again hung in the balance and she was pushed away before she could do anything about it. Slowly, he closed his lips and swallowed the string of curses that threatened to spill from his throat, as he realized that there was nothing he (or anyone else for that matter) could do to dissuade Piper. Not when she was like this.   
  
"Trouble in paradise? Don't stop because of me! By all means, take it all out! I'll just kill whoever is still standing afterwards".   
  
The sharp words stung, and both Piper and Cole looked away from each other, the telltale signs of a blush spreading through their cheeks. That only served to inflame Phoebe's anger further, and with a cry of fury, she attacked them.   
  
Or him, for that matter. Completely ignoring Piper, Phoebe jumped Cole and they rolled across the floor, neither noticing as splinters dug into their skin. Cole did not attack her. Instead, he settled for blocking her jabs and stopping her kicks, keeping one careful eye on the athame she sported on her hip.   
  
He and Phoebe had sparred before. Before any of this personal hell of theirs had come to pass, back when their only worry was the Source, he had taken it upon himself to teach Phoebe some fighting moves. He had been impressed by her quick learning abilities, and at the natural talent she possessed for the Arts.  
  
But the Phoebe that tackled him into the floor was a much different one. {She fights like a true demon}, he thought, blocking a fist that would've smashed his nose into his brain. Deadly speed, and she wasn't even breaking a sweat yet!  
  
He had meant it when he said that this was his fight. If hadn't been for him, Phoebe would've never been captured. She would've never been turned into--- into *this*. And as Piper owed it to her big sister to protect what was left of her family, Cole felt obliged to give Piper the chance she wanted to try and reach Phoebe. And if all else failed, he would be the one to kill her: it was his mess, and he was the only one to fix it.  
  
"Phoebe! Stop!".   
  
She did not listen. Nor did she stop. Sending a vicious kick to his midsection, she made him double over in pain and landed an elbow on his now exposed back. As Cole went down with a grunt and Piper cried out his name, Phoebe only smiled.   
  
"This is for me", she told him, continuing her assault, "for everything I gave you and you took without care". Cole was too stunned to react, torn in between protecting himself from the woman he loved and coming to terms with the fact that she wasn't that woman anymore. "You made me kill her, Cole", she continued, and his real name sounded like a mockery in her lips, not like the soft-spoken caress it had once been.   
  
"I gave everything up for you", she said, and Piper watched horrified as Phoebe drew the athame in a perfect circular motion around her, slicing Cole's shirt and missing his skin by millimeters. "Everything", she punctuated, stopping in mid-turn to spare Piper a glance full of contempt. "It wasn't enough for you, was it? You wanted more. You wanted *her*".   
  
Backed up against a wall, there was little Piper could do to defend herself as Phoebe closed in on her. Suddenly coming out of her stupor, she threw her hands in the air, and froze the room, taking extra care to keep Cole out of her range of action.   
  
To their surprise, Phoebe did not stop.   
  
Instead, she grinned widely, and they caught the spark of light coming off the mark on her arm as it swallowed and deflected Piper's power. "Did you really think I wouldn't come prepared this time? It only works once, sis. Just once".   
  
Over Phoebe's shoulder, Piper saw Cole forming an electric bolt in his hands. Drawing her eyes away from him quickly, lest Phoebe followed them and notice it too, she began talking, trying to distract her sister and make her forget she had left Cole un-watched behind her.   
  
"But Phoebe--- we can help you! Just let us in again--- whatever he did to you can be undone", she tried, meaning every word she said. If only Phoebe would let them, they might have a chance at removing the Source's influence from her, and return whatever it was he had extracted from her.   
  
{Please, sis. Listen to me}.  
  
In response, Phoebe shook her head. "Why should I? Do you know what it feels like to be free, Piper? What if feels like to not have to worry about anything but yourself? Why would I want to trade all this freedom for an eternity spent working for the Greater Good, which has brought me nothing but pain and heartache?".  
  
Piper found herself at a loss of words. As Phoebe moved closer and closer, she found herself lost in her black eyes, drawn in by the alluring storms that brewed with her every word and seemed to break off with every step she took. "That's not true. You have us, Phoebe, and we love you".   
  
Phoebe's harsh laugh was like a dagger to Piper's heart, and her hands hung limp at her sides, useless. Chances were, if Phoebe was able to divert her freezing power, her exploding power wouldn't do much good. And besides, even if it did, she could not (would not) use it on her sister.   
  
"Love me? You never loved me. You only wanted him to yourself. Well guess what, honey, he isn't even *that* good".  
  
Taken back by the bitterness in Phoebe's voice and completely confused by what she meant, Piper did not answer. Him? Cole? Did she mean Cole? But she and Cole were not an item--- they never were!   
  
As a sudden clarity exploded in her brain like a light bulb going on in the darkness of the night, her eyes darted to Cole, who stood behind Phoebe, arm poised and ready to send the electric ball flying.   
  
In his eyes, Piper found horror that mirrored her own.   
  
{Oh my God...}  
  
Because she was the only one looking in that direction, she was the only one who saw a tall form shimmer into the room, carrying a very fainted, very injured Paige in its arms.   
  
"Now, now, Phax. You should know better than to leave your back exposed like this. One might think you *want* them to get you", it said, and then carelessly tossed Paige into the floor.   
  
And then proceeded to give Cole a run for his money.   
  
  
*******************  
  
  
Leo didn't know where he was. All he knew was that Prue was with him and Piper was not.   
  
As he had orbed out of the manor, he hadn't had any particular destination in mind, just the promise he had once made to Cole, the promise to keep Prue safe. But then Piper had jumped out of the orb, and was left behind.   
  
And when he tried to orb back, he couldn't.   
  
Something was keeping him in the orbing-limbo, and he was growing dizzier by the minute. Prue hadn't made a sound ever since they had left the manor, but she breathed evenly against his neck where she clung for dear life, so Leo was not worried.   
  
Instead, he was worried sick about his wife and his friend, stranded back there in the Halliwell home while he orbed into limbo. Where they okay? Why had Piper refused to be orbed out of there? Were they injured? Hurt? Dead?  
  
"Piper, please be okay", he muttered against Prue's hair, as he caressed her little head in attempt at calming her and himself. They had to be all right. They *had* to be.   
  
Suddenly, the whole world stopped spinning around him and with a deafening rush of wind, they landed somewhere. Or fell. Or something. Leo was careful to keep Prue from harm, and as they rolled to a stop, he found the familiar knee-high mist clinging to his clothes like a second skin.   
  
When the voice spoke, he didn't have to look up to know where he was. "Rise, Leo Wyatt. You have been brought upon Council".   
  
He rose slowly, taking in his surroundings. Just as he remembered them to be. Clouded, dank and endless... clouds upon clouds and pillars and doorways leading into nowhere. For that was where the Elders resided, the place where all whitelighters went when they orbed for counsel or advise.   
  
A place he had thought he would never see again.   
  
He had been forbidden entrance into Heaven back when they had accepted Cole into their family, the Elders too horror-stricken by the blasphemy (as they called it) of the Charmed Ones welcoming a demon into their bosom, much less him working side by side with them. Leo had spent the next several months waiting for the disabling pain that came with the crippling of his angel wings. When it hadn't come, he had accepted the strange fact that even if the Elders frowned upon the fact he was mingling with demons enough to cast him off Heaven, he had retained his powers for good. Maybe the Halliwell predecessors had something to do with it, but as he looked up into the robed figures standing before him, he realized they might've just ran out of luck.   
  
"Greetings, Leo. It has been far too long since you have visited us", said a second voice, and he turned around to find that not only did the hooded figures stand before him: they surrounded him. And he suddenly felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end, as he realized he was greatly outnumbered.   
  
"I was informed I was no longer welcome here, Elder. I only followed the advice you gave me".   
  
Someone in the creepy circle snorted disdainfully: "Really? Well that might be a first for you, Wyatt".   
  
In his arms, Prue seemed to be curiously staring at the seven people around them, her wide blue eyes full of curiosity. When her examination proved useless, she turned to Leo and cooed: "Dada?".   
  
Her voice sounded strangely low and childlike in the floor-less/ceiling-less room they now stood in, and Leo had to fight the urge to hide little Prue from their sight as all their heads turned to stare intently at the baby in his grasp. As he tried to soothe Prue with soft words in her ear, a loud voice interrupted the silence.   
  
"Is this the child?", somebody asked, and Leo shivered unconsciously at the coldness within those words. He knew Prue was not supposed to exist: after all, the Elders had moved Heaven and Hell to keep Phoebe and Cole apart, just as they had done with Piper and himself. And even if they had finally (grudgingly) accepted the fact that a Charmed One was marrying (and bedding) a Whitelighter, it would rain flowers before they even considered accepting a Witch and a Demon. Even if said half-demon was a powerful Force of Good in his own right and probably saved more innocents daily that anyone else in business.   
  
And Prue--- the small baby shouldn't even be alive! But she was alive, and in the very center of a Judgment Circle that frowned upon her very existence. And Leo did not like it one bit. The Elders saw that their mistakes never made it into the Upper ranks of Good, and if the looks they were getting were any indication, what they thought of doing to Prue was not only ugly but wrong.   
  
"She bears the mark of both her parents. There is no doubt".   
  
Whoever answered, Leo did not know, but he clutched Prue tighter. "What do you want from me?", he said, narrowing his eyes at them. He had a family to protect, and he was going to do it. Cole had asked him to protect Prue, and protect her he would. Even from those he had once called a family of his own. How wrong and misguided he had been...  
  
"You are of no use to us, Wyatt. It is her we want".   
  
A bony hand extended, and pointed straight at Prue. The baby looked at it for a few seconds, and then burrowed deeper into Leo's chest, trying to get away from it. "We come from battle, sir. Don't you have any compassion for such a young child?".   
  
If he could only ensure her safety here, he could go back. Go back to the manor, and help Piper and Cole---   
  
"And do what? You have no active powers for a reason, Whitelighter. You are only meant to heal and guide, not fight. The Halliwells lost their right for a whitelighter when they sided with that--- demon".   
  
The last word was spoken with such venom that Leo took a step back. Were these the same people who had appeared in his dreams the night before he died, telling him of his greater future? Were these the same ones who held his hand in the battlefield as he died, helping him cross over and acquire his wings? They couldn't be... they couldn't be!  
  
"He has not done Evil for a long time. By what right do you judge him?", he said, his voice rising and echoing around unseen walls over and over again, as they acted as amplifiers.   
  
"By that given to us by the Higher Powers, Wyatt. And that Power wants her gone".   
  
"NO!", he screamed, and tried to orb out. The power did not come to him, and a throaty chuckle came from his right. "You can not leave unless we bid you farewell, Whitelighter. And neither can she", added the throaty voice as Prue scrunched her petite face in concentration as she tried to shimmer away. When she couldn't do it, she began crying, not quite understanding what was going on. She only knew she couldn't go back to her Daddy and that these mean people were bad.   
  
"You will not hurt her", Leo said, his eyes daring anyone to try and take Prue from him. No one did, but he did not feel safer because of that. "Do you really think we need your permission to do anything, Whitelighter? We gave you your wings, and just as easily we can take them from you".   
  
It *was* an open threat but Leo couldn't care less. If it was his wings they wanted, they could have them. They weren't touching Prue, either way. "Take them. Still, Prue goes back with me. We have family down there, family we love".   
  
The voice chuckled again, and Leo didn't feel as secure anymore. "You do? But do they love you back, Leo Wyatt?".   
  
He frowned at that. "What do you mean?", he asked, Prue's little heart beating a thousand times a minute and thundering in his ears. Or maybe it was his own heart, he couldn't tell for sure. Everything was amplified in here where most inhabitants had no bodies, and his own human flesh was beginning to suffer the effects of excessive magic permeating the environment. That, and the pesky fog coiling at his feet like snakes.   
  
Another robed figure (that as far as Leo could tell had not spoken until then) chose that moment to wave a hand about, and in a flash of light, a mirror appeared. Reflecting the swirling world around them, Leo found nothing special in the images it projected. But as he looked deeper, he found himself drawn into the tales of the future and the past, of that what was and that what was meant to be.   
  
"Look into the Mirror of Time, Wyatt, and tell us if your family loves you as much as you say they do".   
  
Leo could not look away even if he wanted to. The face of the mirror seemed to grow until all he could see was the glassy surface reflecting his own face back at him, eyes wary and demeanor tired, until the frames seemed to dissappear from sight. As the whirlwind of images came to a screeching halt, he made a move to cover his ears to muffle the howls coming from around him, but what he saw next made him stop.   
  
He knew that room--- where had he seen it before? There was someone laying on a bed... a door opened, and a familiar figure walked in. "Piper?", he breathed, surprised that all of things, the mirror would show him the one thing he knew to be right in his messed-up life.   
  
"I do not understand", he said, eyes never once wavering from the film-like scene developing in front of him. "Just watch and learn, Whitelighter. Watch and learn".   
  
He watched Piper lay back against the closed door, and he noticed that the figure in the bed was Cole. But a much younger looking Cole, he realized, as he stood up and walked towards the window. There was no sound, but Piper's lips were moving and he knew they were talking.   
  
Prue gurgled in recognition as Cole's face came into clear view, and Leo could not help but feel deep sorrow as in his eyes he noticed that far-away, hazed gaze of those whose hearts are slowly breaking. And then he realized this must've happened almost two years ago... the day he had dragged a feverish Cole through the manor's front door, and the day they had learned Phoebe had died.   
  
"Dada!", said Prue, her chubby finger pointing at the mirror. Clapping her hands, she continued: "Paip-paip?", once again pointing at the glass, this time at Piper's downcast eyes and defeated stance. Leo shhed her with soft words: "Yeah honey. That's Cole and Piper".   
  
He all but forgot about the robed figures around him as he watched, aghast, as Cole's arms came around Piper and hugged her close. When Piper tilted her head up and Cole's lips descended on hers, he could not look anymore. "No! It's a lie!", he cried out, trying to stop the sudden burst of jealousy from eating him whole.   
  
"Stop it", he pleaded, the image of his wife and his friend passionately kissing ingrained in his mind and repeating itself over and over again. Because he was looking away, he never saw that when the couple parted, just as their foreheads touched and their breaths mingled, Piper mouthed his name. 'Leo', she had said, all those months ago... but he did not see it.   
  
"To accuse the Mirror of Time of falsehood is more than heresy, Leo. And you also know we can not lie".   
  
He knew it... oh, how well he knew it. The Mirror of Time only showed that which Was, and there was no power upon this world or the next that could change its pictures, just as there was no power that could change what had already happened.   
  
{Piper}, he thought, almost like a prayer, {What have you done?}  
  
On the Surface, Piper sneezed.   
  
  
***********************  
  
  
TBC....  
  
To Evil Angel: okay, I didn't want to put this at the beggining because I know it'd spoil it for some people. I'm really sorry Prue wasn't enough to set Phoebe free, but hey, I've still got two years to write about!! The story can't end now, can it? 


	18. Broken

** Chapter 18: Broken **  
  
by Lilian.   
  
lilian413@yahoo.com  
  
AN: Big battle ahead, so you might want to fasten your seatbelts before reading this. Oh, and it's okay to hate Phoebe after this... I know I did!  
  
Tell me what you think!   
  
*******  
  
  
When Paige awoke, the first thing she noticed was that she wasn't in the Underworld anymore.   
  
Gone was the suffocating scent of demons, and her whitelighter senses weren't going into overdrive anymore as they couldn't process all the demonic-stimuli coming at her from all five corners of her mind.   
  
{Or is that four corners?}, she mused, half-awake and half-asleep. In the end, it didn't matter because the headache was still there, and no matter how hard she tried, her skull kept feeling like someone had used it as a punching bag.   
  
And then she remembered they had. And the small whimper that escaped her throat was not even human as she crouched into a small ball and tried to go back to sleep. But her mind would have none of that, and instead took great pleasure in forcing her to relive the past few hours (although it had seemed like days to her) with painful clarity.   
  
She had been wandering downtown when it had happened. One moment she was pressing her feverish forehead into the glass of a store display, and then someone was roughly jerking her aside and it was all lights and twirls and she was in the Underworld.   
  
And she had been there, waiting for her it seemed.   
  
She could still feel her mocking kiss on her cheek, where it had burned like poison. 'Lovely sister of mine', she had called her, 'it has been too long'. She whimpered again, remembering the thrust of the first blade into her body. It had hurt.   
  
Gods, it had hurt so much!  
  
But then there were a million others, and suddenly each stung a little less, and she felt herself detached, and she wasn't in her own body anymore as they took turns mocking her, each developing their torture skills with her... and they enjoyed it.  
  
Had she eaten anything that day, she would've hurled her stomach contents right there and then. Since she hadn't (eaten, that is), she settled for heaving forcefully against the floor, clawing for breath as suddenly the room seemed so very small around her.   
  
"Paige".   
  
Her name was whispered next to her, but she barely registered it. They had disguised themselves as one of her family so many times, and every time she believed it. And her hopes had been crushed one time too many, and she was not falling for it anymore, oh no she wasn't.   
  
"It's all right, you're home now".   
  
Again, the voice was warm and caring, but then again, so had they been then. And in the end, just as her eyes had lit up at the prospect of being rescued, the face it front of her changed, and instead of looking into Piper's soft eyes or Cole's stormy ones, or even Leo's calm face, they had made her scream a little more.   
  
She opened her eyes a crack, her headache multiplying a thousand fold as the light seared her pupils. As her hands flew to her face to cover her sensitive eyes, she realized for the first time she wasn't bound anymore. No more chains around her wrists, no more magical restraints holding them fast together.   
  
And then she began crying.  
  
Out of relief or pain or frustration she did not know, but maybe it was a combination of all of those. As her battered body was rocked by powerful sobs, she felt a tender hand caressing her hair and some whispered words of comfort. "It's okay, Paige. I've got you now. You're safe... I won't let them hurt you anymore".  
  
She only hiccuped in response, too far gone to do otherwise. Through muffled ears, she heard the distant sounds of battle, and the stench of blood was all around her and suddenly she was back down there and they were doing those horrible things to her again and no, she couldn't go back no please, Piper SAVE ME!  
  
Her shrill cry broke from her parched lips with a vengeance, and she clung to whoever was next to her like crazy, her broken fingernails digging into the soft skin of someone's arm.   
  
"Shh. It's okay to cry".  
  
She winced when her broken ribs protested as she shifted in the person's embrace, but she did not cry out. Instead, she opened her eyes slowly, afraid of what she might see. Her tired eyes took in Piper's worried face, her eyes brimming with unshed tears and she suddenly knew she was safe.   
  
"Pi-- Piper", she said, her voice quivering. She had burned her throat raw from screaming, a removed place in her brain noted, but she forced the thought back down. Too fresh. The wounds were still too fresh.   
  
"Yes honey, it's me. You're here, you're safe now", answered Piper, taking great care as to not flinch at the sight of Paige's bloodied form.   
  
Paige's lips moved, but no sound came out. Piper leaned forward and listened closer: "Where?", rasped the younger woman, and her eyes fluttered close as exhaustion grabbed hold of her. Piper shook her, stopping her from falling into shock. "In the manor. Don't fall asleep on me, Paige. Just stay with me, come on, stay with me sis".   
  
She knew of people with severe trauma who went to sleep and then never woke up. She knew she had to keep Paige awake. The black haired woman's eyes flew open as Piper shook her again, but the cloud of pain hovering inside them did not part.   
  
"How?", she asked them, and Piper let loose a breath she didn't know she had been holding. At least she was conscious enough to be asking questions.   
  
"It doesn't matter. You're here now".   
  
Paige knew Piper was hiding something from her, but she was too tired to ask. Her eyelids were incredibly heavy, and a strange drowsiness was crawling up from her legs and up her head and it would just so easy to give in and close her eyes and---   
  
"Paige!".   
  
Piper's sharp tone made her start, but kept her from falling asleep. "Sorry", she mouthed up to her sister, and when Piper shook her head and tried to keep her from talking, she raised a hand and took Piper's own and squeezed. "No, let me. I'm sorry I ran away".  
  
She felt something wet running down her cheeks, and only then did she realize she was still crying. Wherever the salty droplets touched, it hurt---open wounds stung, and she was suddenly admiring what was left of her nail polish, wondering just what possessed her in the first place to buy that weird looking pink anyway, and oh, this was all Kat's fault, she had talked her into buying it, 'it goes well with your skin tone' she had said, while the nice lady behind the counter patiently waited for them to make a decision and--- she realized Piper was talking, and forced herself to focus.  
  
".... fault. I never blamed you for any of this, Paige. Never. Just--- rest. Please, don't waste any more energy talking. You'll need it to recover".   
  
Paige wanted to ask where Leo was, and why couldn't he heal her when a deep, familiar voice interrupted her line of thought.   
  
"She was a feisty one, Belthazor. I enjoyed breaking her".   
  
A roar of anger followed, but none of it registered with Paige. Her eyes had opened wide at the sound of that voice, and her whole body had gone stiff in Piper's lap. She shook her head from side to side, needing the denial.   
  
{I know that voice!}, screamed her brain, but no, no, she didn't, she didn't want to remember!  
  
'You're tasty, little one. Did you know that?'  
  
The treacherous whispers of her own mind became too much to bear, and she shrieked and clutched her head in her hands, trying to push the memories away.   
  
"Ahh, she remembers me, then. I made sure she would never forget".   
  
As the voice kept on talking, strong but trembling hands tried to keep her still as Paige trashed back and forth. Finally, drained of her last energy reserves she fell limp into Piper's lap, her eyes wide and unseeing as she looked up and found herself looking into those green eyes she hated so much.   
  
He had done this to her... the most horrible things she could imagine. And yet, he had barely touched her... mental torture left hidden scars that can not be seen, he had said, and the smirk on his lips was like staring into the face of death for her.   
  
For the first time, she took in what was happening around her. She and Piper lay on the destroyed remains of the living room, barely recognizable with all the scorch marks and debris littering it. To her right, Cole stood, blue eyes flashing with unconfined anger, electric bolt ready in his hand.   
  
Paige noticed he was covered in wounds, and there was one nasty burn mark on his left leg. Across the room, facing him, stood the one she hated so. Shier, he had said his name was, amidst her screams as he cut her with the sharp blade of a ceremonial knife.   
  
Back in the Underworld, he had seemed imposing, towering above her as she hung from the ceiling of the cavern, the sole of her feet barely dragging away at the floor. Now, in the full light of the Surface, he had lost some of his glamour, but still remained as the impersonation of all that was evil.   
  
Handsome and proud and deadly and evil, that was what he was.   
  
Craning her neck to the side, she was surprised to see there was someone else with them. Sitting atop a destroyed table, her feet dangling leisurely in front of her, was Phoebe. A small smile lit up her changed features, and her black eyes darted back and forth between Cole and Shier. And in those eyes, Paige found the same glint of greed one sees on the curator who examines the finest horse, determining genetic traits that will impregnate his own mares.   
  
"You bastard", Cole all but spat then, breaking the deafening silence that had settled on the room. There was venom in his words, the silent promise of a long, painful death for what the other demon had done. Paige noticed his free hand was curled into a tight fist, and in his eyes she saw the struggle from within as Belthazor strained to break free.   
  
"Oh please. Like you haven't done worse in your days". Shier waved a dismissive hand in Cole's direction, and brushed a strand of hair out of the way of his viridian eyes. Back in the Underworld, Paige had seen them shine with an inner light of their own and she had blamed it on the reflection of the torches around them. It seemed she had been wrong, because even here, even now, they glinted like emeralds under the sun.   
  
She tried to speak, tried to warn Cole, but her throat closed up and she could not get the words out. Piper stilled her with a firm hand against her chest, and pushed her back into her lap. "Don't move. You'll re-open your wounds. He cauterized most of them but still---", she stopped when she realized she had said too much.   
  
Fighting a loosing battle, Paige kept on struggling until she sapped her own strength and had to stop. Taking a deep breath, she tried to speak again. A murky noise that would have to do emerged from her lips: "Why haven't you...".   
  
She couldn't continue, but made a suggestive hand motion. Piper sighed sadly, and shook her head. "It doesn't work. They don't freeze and he doesn't explode". Neither of the women commented on the change of pronoun Piper used, because it was obvious *why*.   
  
Instead, they turned their attention back to the ongoing battle between the two male demons. Paige couldn't help but notice that Cole was favoring his left side, and that every time he moved, Shier was a little bit quicker, a little bit stronger. Phoebe did not move from her spot, and simply followed their movements closely, as if admiring a show rather than a battle to the death.   
  
"What happened?", asked Paige, feeling as little by little, her energies returned, allowing her to speak once again, "and where are Prue and Leo?".   
  
"They're safe. Leo orbed Prue away. Cole wanted to me go with them, but I stayed... I don't know why".  
  
Piper's eyes followed the battle too, wincing with every step that Cole faltered, with every hit from Shier that managed to sneak in between the half-demon's crumbling defenses.   
  
"He shimmered here with you a while ago", she continued, and Paige shivered at the thought of *him* carrying her, but said nothing, "and he and Phoebe started arguing. Something about letting her fight her own fights. He kept ribbing her about faulty technique or something, and she just---". Piper faltered at a loss of words, asking herself just *what* had happened between those two (Shier and Phoebe) for Phoebe to get *that* flustered.   
  
"In the end, she demanded he show her how it was done, and sat there where she is now. And then he threw an energy bolt at me and Cole---", once again, Piper's voice wavered with pent-up emotion, as she recalled her scream of fear and the realization that she was going to die right there and then. And then Cole had---  
  
"He took the blast himself", Paige finished for her, knowing it by having read it in Piper's eyes. Closing her eyes, she tried calling for something, anything... her powers did not work. Drained of her energy, her body refused to spend any of its strength on anything but healing, orbing to safety be damned.   
  
"Yeah. It all happened so fast he didn't even have time to shimmer us out of danger. And they've been going at it ever since".   
  
Such a Cole-thing to do, they both thought. To endanger his own life to save those he loved. But it was going to cost him this time, because his bruised body was no match for Shier's fresh, rested energy as he kept going and going and going, and Cole looked like he was going to fall faint at his feet any time now.   
  
As Cole sent a desperate look their way, Paige was struck with the heart-stopping realization that the one thing that kept him going right now was the certainty that if *he* fell, both she and Piper wouldn't be able to defend themselves.   
  
Something within her tore at that, and she closed her eyes. This was *not* a good time to be admiring his chiseled features and caring soul.   
  
Instead, she sent a silent prayer to whomever was listening, asking for help.   
  
And all along, Phoebe kept watch, not interfering in the ongoing brawl, but making sure neither Paige nor Piper moved anywhere. Piper had the burnt hair-ends to prove it, as her first (and only) attempt at crawling towards the kitchen (where her store of potions lay) had resulted in Phoebe sending her a silent, albeit extremely hot, warning to stay put.   
  
"He's going to loose, Piper".  
  
Paige's whisper was faint, but loud enough for Piper to hear. And it only confirmed what she knew, what she had known ever since Cole had been unable to dodge the first oncoming blast, that he would've otherwise sidestepped casually and easily. Whatever it was he had protected her from, it had taken a lot out of him, and now it was showing.   
  
"And there's nothing we can do about it", said Paige, hopelessness creeping into her heart and freezing it under its cold, unyielding hand.   
  
  
  
*******************  
  
  
  
Piper kissing Cole. Cole kissing Piper.   
  
Kissing. Groping, even.   
  
But most of all, kissing. In that intimate, knowing way that is reserved for lovers and married couples.   
  
Burned into his mind forever, even if he closed his eyes he could still see them, together, embracing, melting into each other like two halves of one whole.   
  
{They kissed}, he thought for the umpteenth time, suddenly feeling dizzy. The wavering mist at his feet did not help any in placating the nausea that grabbed hold of him, and he held to the one solid thing he had near: Prue.   
  
The small baby was settled snugly against his chest and was happily sucking on her thumb, unaware of the inner turmoil her uncle was going through. {Unaware that her father just cheated on her Mom, with her aunt nonetheless}, said a perfidious voice in the back of his head, and jealousy erupted in his heart like a maelstrom, threatening to consume him whole.   
  
"You understand now, Leo Wyatt? Do you understand why we were against all of this?".   
  
All of this? What was 'this'? Him marrying Piper? Phoebe and Cole being together? Prue? Too many questions, too many doubts, and a muffled sob left his lips as his heart began breaking. The robed figures spun around him like a kaleidoscope, and their forms blurred into one continuous gray circle surrounding him, closing in on him, preventing his escape...   
  
"Give her up, Wyatt. Give her to us", they all spoke at once, their voices mingling in a cacophony of tones and words and orders that made his head hurt and all along, all he could see was Piper wrapped around Cole like a second skin.   
  
"No", he muttered, some semblance of common sense making its way into his mind, like a ray of sunshine through the clouds of a storm. "No", he repeated, louder this time, making the figures around him stop spinning and settle into one place and one place alone.   
  
Seven of them still, all robed, all cloaked in light so bright he could see their contours but nothing else.   
  
"She had no part in it", he said, resolve strengthening, eyes narrowing.   
  
And he knew what they wanted him to do. Exploiting on his human weaknesses they wanted him to react like most humans would: with anger and without thinking. To give up Prue to hurt Cole... oh, and how he wanted to. How he wanted him to suffer how he had suffered, how he was suffering now, watching the frozen image of him kissing his wife, the one woman he had given everything to and who had so balefully betrayed him.   
  
{No. It wasn't her fault}, said a distant corner of his mind, a small part that had yet to be overtaken by jealousy. And then he realized he did not know whom he was thinking about: it wasn't Prue's fault that they had kissed? Or it wasn't Piper's fault? Or maybe it was no one's fault...  
  
"You will not give her to us? Why do you keep holding on to a lie, Leo?".   
  
Strangely, it was a female voice the one that spoke. Funny, he had never thought of the Elders as sexed beings...   
  
Because it's the only thing I have left, he wanted to say. Because she means everything to me, and because I love him as a brother, he wanted to say. And because I cannot fathom the idea of them betraying me, added a small corner of his mind that went almost unheard as the kiss presented itself to him in different shapes and forms and colors and---  
  
"I love them", he said, his eyes downcast. "Even if they--- whatever it is that happened, I love them".   
  
He did not know that the Elders were mimicking what the Source had done to Phoebe; he didn't know he now verged on the same cliff she had tumbled down after witnessing the very same scene now displayed in front of him.   
  
Maybe what the Elders expected of him was to react in the same fashion Phoebe had, to lash out in anger and betrayal and give them what they wanted. But what the Elders had not counted on was that Leo was not Phoebe. He was a different person, and as such, he reacted differently. Rather than letting anger consume him and pervert his heart, he let the weight of inevitability settle over him slowly... after all, all he wanted in life was to see Piper happy, and if that happiness lay within Cole's arms instead of his, well, he'd accept it.   
  
Mourn her, yes. Break his heart, hell yeah. But he wouldn't blame it on them, because he knew as a whitelighter that there was no controlling the whims and whispers of the heart.   
  
When small, chubby hands cupped his face and softly made him look up, Leo had a sudden flash of wise, old eyes looking back at him, eyes that had seen many lifetimes before the one she was living now. Prue smiled at him in that pure, innocent way that only babies can, and chased his shadows away.   
  
"Leee-ee-o", she cooed, stretching his name until it was not one syllable but three. And before he knew it, he was smiling back at her, the happiness in her cobalt eyes contagious.   
  
Without missing a beat, Prue pointed at the hovering mirror in front of them and Leo suddenly felt her smile wasn't as brilliant anymore. Leo refused to look where her small finger indicated, and taking her tiny hand in his much larger one, kissed her knuckles and shook her head.   
  
"No, honey. I've seen enough".  
  
Frustrated, Prue insisted, making 'Dada' sounds every so often. The circle of robed figures had gone silent around them, as if intently watching the exchange between the baby and the whitelighter. And it was that oppressive silence that made him turn and face the Mirror of Time.  
  
As if on queue, the image unfroze and continued and Leo suppressed the jealousy with control born out of a lifetime of hard decisions and tough calls and forced himself to watch. Displaced, he noticed that Prue's eyes were locked on the images before them as well, almost as if making sure he would not look away.   
  
And this time, when the frozen image began running again, Leo was there to see how Piper called for him, and smiled.   
  
And with that, a crack appeared on the glassy surface, stemming from Cole's chest and running up and down and right and left--- with a crash, the mirror exploded from the inside, and before the shards could harm either Leo or Prue, they vanished into tiny specks of light and landed on them both softly, almost lovingly.   
  
And wherever they touched, Leo felt his weariness leaving him, and Prue outright giggled as she tried to catch the little fireflies with her hands. When his eyes rose to meet the shinning robes of the figures in front of him, they were strong and determined, having just exorcised a few demons of his own.   
  
There were still a million and one questions running through his head, but neither Piper nor Cole was there to answer them. But he could wait. That's what he did, after all. Wait.   
  
Taking a deep breath, he faced the Circle of Judgment, his voice gaining strength with every word: "We came here not by volition but by force. You dragged us up here like luggage and then you demand I hand Prue over to you. We were fleeing battle, and still you did not give us asylum but treated us as traitors. The Council of Elders I know does not impose on people. Maybe I did the right thing turning my back on you".   
  
He ignored the indignant squeaks coming from all seven figures, and instead continued with his tirade: "You pretend to know what happened in that room, and how can you? When you're nothing but light and lack of feeling. You have messed with us enough! Piper loves me and I love her, and Cole is a part of our family whether you want it or NOT!".   
  
With that last word, his voice rose to a pitch and a keen wail resounded around them, making Prue wiggle uncomfortably in his arms. One by one, the robes fell to the floor as whatever kept them animated disappeared, and remained hidden under the eternal mists of Heaven. The seven figures fell one by one, in an almost domino effect, and Leo was left alone, alone with Prue and the earsplitting beating of his own heart.   
  
As little Prue began sobbing softly, totally at a loss as to what was going on, Leo caressed her cheek and tried to calm her down: "It's okay, Prue. Those mean people won't do anything to you. Not while I'm here".  
  
Closing his eyes and concentrating, he willed himself to the Surface, to the Manor, to Piper...   
  
When a few seconds went by, and nothing happened, Leo's eyes opened and there was fear in them. Because he was still unable to orb, unable to get down there and help his family as they fought the most important battle of their lives.   
  
He felt rather than saw the coils of magic making their way from his feet up, almost like vines growing steadily upon a wall.   
  
{Piper}, was his last thought before an irresistible somnolence grabbed hold of him and his legs buckled from under him. The last thing he remembered was cushioning their fall with his body to avoid Prue getting hurt.   
  
The baby's tearful lament fell on deaf ears.   
  
  
************************  
  
  
"This is what you feared so, Phax? He barely puts up a challenge".   
  
Phax snorted as she jumped off her spot on the destroyed dinner table and walked up to Shier. "Only because I softened him for you first. He would've killed you in a heartbeat at full strength".   
  
Across the room, Cole leaned into the wall behind him for support, trying to block out the sneers directed his way, his whole attention focused on Piper and Paige, making sure they were still all right.   
  
Paige had stopped talking a while ago, and that had him worried sick: with the extent of her injuries, shock was not a distant possibility, and the light of hope in Piper's eyes had decreased until he could not see it anymore.   
  
Where the hell was Leo and why wasn't he getting his ass back here and healing her? The thought of Paige hurting, of the young woman he thought as a little sister of dying--- he shook his head. She wouldn't die. She *wouldn't*.   
  
At least Prue was safe. She was out of Phoebe's reach, and that pained him to the extent it was hard to breathe. Because how many times had he imagined their reunion? How many times had he daydreamed about this, about Phoebe seeing Prue and realizing her mistake, seeing Prue and her face lighting up in happiness, and the Source's hold on her broken, the taint upon her soul erased?   
  
Too many to count.   
  
And they had all been destroyed with one blow, one precisely delivered blow. Phoebe had seen Prue, had recognized her even--- and it had done nothing. The shadow of darkness was still all around her, still enveloping her like a protective cocoon of evil and damn it, he couldn't reach her while she was in there!  
  
He grunted when he tried to straighten up and his collarbone protested. It was probably broken...  
  
Few times in his adult life had he sported *these* kind of injuries-- usually, things were the other way around. He was doing the beating, he was the one doing the butt kicking. But now... he was on the receiving end of it, and things were looking more than grim.   
  
They were positively dismal.   
  
Taking that hit for Piper had hurt him bad: the amount of power behind it had been huge and it had slowed him down just enough for that cocky bastard to get a few precise hits in, more than enough for him to loose whatever advantage of age he might've had.   
  
Because it was obvious that this--- this son of a bitch was young, not a year older than eighty. Almost an entire generation behind him, and still, he was making Cole look like he had just stepped out of the nest.  
  
Gods, it hurt! Everything hurt. But most of all, his heart. And it broke a little more when he watched with wide eyes as Phoebe tilted her head and settled it on Shier's shoulder. His possessive arm around her waist was expected, but still, it was like someone had pulled his heart out and was using it for target practice.   
  
"No", he whispered despite himself, and looked away. He couldn't stand the sight of Phoebe with someone else, especially with that derisive, smug little bastard that had all but beaten him into next week and was now grinning confidently at Cole, safe and aware of his victory over him.   
  
"Look. He mourns you, Phax. He cannot take the sight of us together".   
  
The contempt in Shier's voice ignited a fire of anger inside Cole's chest, and his head snapped back, eyes ablaze. That was why he was able to see clearly and without any preamble the passionate kiss they shared.  
  
He did not how long it lasted, and he didn't care: to him, it felt like an eternity, an eternity of torment and of watching helplessly as those filthy hands that had defeated him now danced in lazy circles around the body of the woman he loved.   
  
When Phoebe moaned deep in her throat and arched her body against Shier's, it was suddenly too much for him and with a roar of fury he attacked them. As one perfectly oiled machine, Phoebe disentangled herself from Shier and sidestepped Cole, letting Shier take the offensive. Rage made Cole careless and his electric bolt went much too wide and exploded harmlessly against the wall to their right. Without missing a beat, Shier planted a widespread palm against Cole's chest, and as time slowed down, he leaned forward and whispered in his ear, loud enough for him to hear: "You have great taste in women, Belthazor, I'll grant you that. I'll be sure to send your regards to the one I have yet to taste".   
  
Power erupted from Shier's palm and pushed Cole backward at amazing speed. As he slammed against one of the last remaining standing walls of the living room, his eyes never once wavered from Shier's mocking grin and hatred took a hold of his mind.   
  
Shier would *not* lay a finger upon Piper. Not while he was alive. Not while there was anything he could do about it. That simple thought of sweet, caring Piper even *near* him made a primitive part of him, the territorial instinct of old, come to life.  
  
Belthazor bellowed inside of him, and pushed for release...   
  
His head hit the ground, hard, and he lost consciousness. Unable to exert any type of control over his body, Belthazor retreated into the dark corners of his mind.   
  
He never heard Piper scream his name.   
  
  
****************  
  
  
"COLE!".   
  
Piper tried to run to him, but the extent of her injuries and the dead weight of a fainted Paige on her lap stopped her. She could only watch with teary eyes as the man she knew as a brother fell, unconscious, leaving them all doomed to die.   
  
{No! Not him too!}.   
  
The desperate thought ran through her mind a thousand times before it lost its meaning to her, and still, it did not stop, like an endless merry-go-round going round and round and round...  
  
Shier turned to look at her (at *them*, but Paige was too far gone to notice), and Piper blanched at the sight of his pointed canines shinning under the light as he smiled. Suddenly she had a glimpse of what he had done to Paige and it took a great deal of effort not to look away and hide somewhere really, really dark.  
  
"You've got the spunkiest sisters, Phax. Did you know that?", he asked, never once looking away from Piper. Her arms cradled Paige's body closer, trying to keep her from harm's way. Shier's sharp eyes followed her moves with a leer, and she suddenly felt much too exposed by the flimsy blouse she wore. It was torn into shreds, and did little to cover her--- and through it all, she held her chin high and did not look away.   
  
"And they're very beautiful, to boot", he continued, and moved closer to her. Piper couldn't help but compare him with Cole, because there were too many similarities between them to not do so: Cole moved like a panther, lithe and graceful and taut, ready to take anything sent his way. Shier moved like a tiger, leisurely, arrogant, confident in his own ability and charm. And yet they both had that aura of power around them. They carried it around wherever they went, like a veil upon their bodies. Maybe it was the demon in them--- maybe it was simply that they were both strong, passionate men, who would stop at nothing to get what they wanted.   
  
Pity that Shier wanted *her*, she mused, frightened.   
  
"Stay away from us", she spat at him, her arms raising and ready to fire. He did stop, but amusement colored his features and as he looked down at them, Piper felt her heartbeat quickening. "Or what? I think we already established that doesn't work on me", he said, motioning for her trembling hands.   
  
And indeed, her powers did not work on him, by whatever spell that was protecting him. And desperation clawed at Piper, and she gritted her teeth in frustration: "Maybe not on you. But the house is all around you, Shier. And I have pretty damn good aim".   
  
That halted him. They fought a silent contest of wills as Piper sent her best glare his way, and all along her mind screamed: {Move AWAY! Move away, PLEASE!}  
  
By whatever Gods were watching, Shier broke off contact and shrugged. "Pity. I would've showed you Heaven, little Witch". As he turned on his heel and approached Phoebe, who was kneeling besides Cole, he never heard Piper's answer: "My husband already took me there".   
  
"Did I kill him?", Shier asked nonchalantly as he stopped by Phax, crossing his arms and looking down at the fainted half-demon. Phax looked up at him, and grabbed a fistful of Cole's hair, pulling his head up. Cole did not wake. Releasing it, Phax stood up, her black eyes fixed on the crimson staining her hand. "No. But you hurt him pretty bad".   
  
Across the room, their keen ears listened to the whispers of comfort Piper sent to Paige, and the blabber meant to soothe both their hearts. Casting a glance to the couple, Phax brushed her hand against her magenta leather pants and Cole's blood mixed quite harmoniously with the purple-red tint of her clothes.   
  
"Well, I think our work here is done".   
  
Shier raised an eyebrow at that but Phax's finger on his lips silenced his protests: "Death is too easy for them. Why not extend their torment for a while?".   
  
As Phax's finger came down slowly, Shier took that hand with his own and kissed the inside of her wrist in an intimate caress. "I love the way you think, woman". She only smiled at that and winked at him.   
  
Letting him embrace her, Phax rested against his powerful chest with ease, taking in the destruction and chaos they had left in their wake. As he nuzzled her throat, her eyes landed again on Piper, as the older woman bent over to check Paige's pulse.   
  
How beautiful this all was... finally, her revenge was taking shape before her. The witch broken and bloodied, mourning for the young Witch with teary eyes and desperate pleas. And Belthazor--- well, it went without saying that watching him and Shier have a go at it was the single most arousing sight she had ever had the pleasure of enjoying.   
  
Curling around Shier like a cat, she let him play with the hem of her shirt as it rode dangerously high on her belly and licked her lips in anticipation. Oh yes, so many, many things she could do to them.   
  
Gaining Piper's attention, she spoke slowly, marking her words: "Know this, sister: this was only the beginning. We can come back whenever we want to, and we *will*. Rest assured we will. Enjoy your truce while it lasts... when we return, we'll be taking souls with us".   
  
With each word her eyes drilled into Piper's, almost gleeful. Piper did not answer, and just concentrated on breathing. That monotonous, endless task kept her from snapping, kept her sane as her sister and her newfound lover bid their farewells and promised to return.   
  
With a last wave and a laugh worthy of the stereotypical witches from fairy tales and such, the couple shimmered away. And their last words rang in the air of the destroyed manor, and Piper felt like throwing up as they began what looked like a sick, twisted version of foreplay.   
  
"Leo", she cried out, Paige's body growing colder by the minute in her lap.   
  
"Leo!", she tried again, softly placing Paige's head on the floor and crawling towards Cole, who had not moved since passing out. She didn't like the small pool of blood forming by his head. Upon reaching him, she frantically searched for a pulse and screamed when she found none.   
  
"LEO!".   
  
Her harsh cry broke the heavy silence that settled around her, as she suddenly realized that from this distance she couldn't hear Paige's breathing anymore, just her own desperate, clawing heave as her lungs refused to take in any air and she was suffocating and madness' talons assaulted her senses and--- "LEOOOO!".   
  
Breaking into a fit of sobs, her battered form fell on top of Cole and she let grief take her.   
  
Leo never came.   
  
She never knew how long she stayed there, crying: at some point, she had run out of tears and had been left with rocking, sharp intakes of breath as she fought for control, but it couldn't have been more than a few minutes.   
  
{Have to pull it together, must do it, for their sakes, Paige, please be alive, Cole, breathe, damn it!}.  
  
Her small fist slammed against Cole's chest and he grunted as air was forced into his lungs. And her eyes widened and her heart soared as he slowly began breathing again, her sudden smack bringing him back to life.   
  
She didn't know how, but she made her way to the phone. And somehow, some small, distant part of her brain remembered Darryl's number and her fingers found it in themselves to dial, and she mumbled something incoherent when he picked up on the other end.  
  
And when she was sure Darryl was on his way over, she slumped against the wall and cried.   
  
  
  
***************  
  
  
TBC....  
  
  
  
  
Acknowledgements and thank you's:   
  
To Snoopy: aahh, shucks. You made me blush. Cole and Paige are my fav characters to write about, so I'm glad you liked my portrayal of them! Hope you enjoy this next chapter.   
  
To Kismet: *sigh* I wish Prue would've made Phoebe come back too, but this characters have a life of their own and she was quite loud about it. Besides, if she did shake off the Source's influence, then we'd have no more story, right?  
  
To Evil Angel: Don't you worry. Little Prue's about to kick some Elder butt. Or at least, given them a run for their money.   
  
To gemini UK: thank you for sticking with me this far... I'm blessed to have such loyal readers. This chapter is quite strong (at least I think so), so I hope I can meet up to your expectations.   
  
To Hjordis: I know people keep reading this--- it's just that you've spoiled me! But thank you for the encouragement... I'll be sure to update quicker!  
  
To Mimi: Je. My Muse saw your review and smiled devilishly. Don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing *lol*. And we all love to hate the Elders, because they pretend to be Good and they're not. At least the Source is all evil, all the time.   
  
To Jaki: just in case you've finished unpacking, here's another chapter for the sake of clothing. And my mind works in dark ways, so there's always a way back from things... as much as certain writers from certain show which shall not be named want us to believe otherwise.   
  
To Reflectionoflife: Believe me, I've wanted to write *myself* into the story at times. My hands itch to swap Phax over the head and lock her and Cole in a closet for a while till they make up and probably give Prue a brother or sister. But alas, we can't have that... not yet anyway.   
  
To Cindy: your faith in Leo is not misplaced. Read on and find out how I, ahem, kept him sane. And as for your question, well, I see the Elders as this eternal beings who lost their ability to trust a long time ago. And like so, they kill what they cannot understand and forbid that which they cannot kill. Cole is a headache to then, and so is Prue--- maybe they're the reflection of the WB writers!  
  
To Nibor13: updated, just as you asked!  
  
To Michelle and CFan2005: *gasp* Five hours? Damn, hadn't realized this thing had gotten so long. But it is a good read, isn't it? (notice my humility? :o) Hope you like this chapter!  
  
To Grace: thank you! Keeping track of all my plot twists has been hard... thank God I have a trusty notepad nearbyor I'd be lost!  
  
To jessica: don't worry, honey. I know Phoebe and Cole are soulmates, and no matter what I do, I'd never pair up Cole with anyone else. Maybe me, but that's a whole another story *wink*.  
  
To Tiian: aahh, yes. Guilt-ride should be coming up for Piper and Cole... who said the past never comes to bite you in the butt?  
  
To ****: Next chapter done! Hope you like! 


	19. Author's Note

April, 18, 2004.   
  
*********  
  
My dear readers:  
  
Most of you might already know what this Author's Note is going to say. Many of you might be suspecting this for a long time coming, seeing as my updates on this story have been anything short of abismal-y nonexistant.   
  
When I set out to write CoH, I believed in the world of 'Charmed'. I loved the characters, I loved the concept, I loved the show-- I don't anymore. The way the exit of Julian McMahon (aka. sweet, ever-adorable Cole Turner) was handled left a bitter taste on the back of my throat that I could never shake, and it slowly began poisoning my passion for the show until it killed it completely.   
  
CoH grew from my heart as but a seedling, a child's attempt to deal with events that I now know, heralded the beggining of the end. I wanted to correct what I thought (still think!) was a mistake: the loss of Cole's powers. But then it become something more: something bigger than myself, and that inspired hundreds of you to read and write and take the precious time to tell me how much you liked what I was doing. And that was what kept me writing through the horrid torture that was S4, as they slowly but surely destroyed everything I loved about a character, twisted it until he was bent beyond recognition and then brushed him off as if he had never existed at all. And that, I cannot accept.   
  
I've tried writing chapter 19 of CoH for over a year now. I've started over thirty different chapters; traveling to the far future, delving into the dark past, trying to cope with the horrible present I created for my own characters-- and nothing is coming out. My Muse no longer feels for this people, for the Halliwell-Turner family I created out of the brilliant idea the show 'Charmed' gave us. And when I find myself no longer caring for the characters, it means it's time for me (and you, faithful readers) to move on.   
  
I cannot tell you the bittersweet feeling I got whenever one of you took the time and effort to write to me, to encourage me to finish this story: it made me want to cry, because I really, really *wanted* to finish it. I would sit in front of my screen, intent on writing something, and the words would not come out. I'd dabble back and forth, typing scenes that made no sense and stringing sentences together until they resembled something coherent. But then I would read it again and I'd realize neither you nor CoH deserved nothing short of perfection, and I can no longer give you that.   
  
That is why I am sadly announcing my retirement from the Charmed fandom. It's been ages since I've read and/or read any Charmed fanfiction, and even if I'm tentatively re-approaching the show and re-discovering some of my affection for it, it still pains me to see what a mockery the characters have become. I cannot stand the fact they laugh at the face of True Love, painting it as Lust, when in reality it was Meant To Be. Maybe some day I will find the courage to delve into this story again, but for the time being, I am taking a step back and letting it fly free.   
  
Chapter 19 ended in a cliffhanger. And even if the resolutions of said conflicts might be already planned in my mind, I cannot find the strength to write them down. Rest assured that the ending was going to be a happy one, and I honestly think that the endings you, as readers, can come up with will surely surpass anything I could possible write. In my world, Phoebe and Cole live happily ever after with Prue, the daughter that made this story possible. I hope they do so in yours as well.   
  
My truly regretful goodbyes,   
  
Lilian. 


	20. Author's Note 2

June 20, 2005

My Dear Readers,

More than a year ago, I wrote a similar letter than the one I am writing now. In it, I sadly announced my retirement from the Charmed fandom, and I did something I had vowed never to do: I put a story on hiatus, aware than I could not give you, my wonderful readers, the story you wanted to read.

I am proud (and elated!) to announce that I have returned. For the past five months, I have set out on the monumental task of re-writing _Change of Heart_. Yes, I said re-write. Fear not, my dear readers, the story remains the same: I have, however, erased some scenes, changed others and added new ones to the mix. In the long months I have been gone, I have not stopped writing in other fandoms, and as such, I have grown from the writer I used to be. I feel much more prepared to give _Change of Heart_ the chance it deserved and the ending it clamored for, and for that, I will begin re-posting this story from the beginning.

So add me to your Author Alerts, because this Saturday, the re-posting of CoH begins. As I consider this to be a new CoH, it will be posted as a new story: this version will no longer be updated, so make sure you add the new one to your lists.

You will meet these characters again, read their adventures again, and perhaps this time, you and me both will find out how it will all end.

Heartfelt salutes, and see you on Saturday!

Lilian.


End file.
